


Castles in the Air

by Scorpion_Queen



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, No Rewind Powers, kinda smutty, slightly angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2020-04-23 23:59:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 56,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19161673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scorpion_Queen/pseuds/Scorpion_Queen
Summary: Rachel and Chloe have grand plans for the future, reality interrupts.





	1. Like A Bad Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter title is from No Care by Daughter, because of course I'm listening to them while I write about Rachel and Chloe :)

"Did you know" Chloe says, adjusting her beanie yet again, "it's supposed to drop to like 60° tonight? You're going to freeze your ass off in those daisy dukes."

"Well good thing I have ass to spare." Rachel shoots back with a wink. She adds a little sway in her hips as she walks ahead of Chloe. "You better hurry up Price, I bet Juliet is sucking down all the tequila as we speak."

Chloe snorts, "the only thing Juliet is sucking down tonight is Zach's di-"

" _Chloe!_ ” Rachel laughs throwing her head back, blonde hair catching in the wind. "that's highly inappropriate."

The first bonfire of summer always makes Rachel giddy, if all the world's a stage then vortex parties are her globe theater. School is out, her shorts are _short_ , and Chloe is by her side. She grabs onto a lamppost as they pass and twirls around it.

Chloe lights a cigarette and grins at her friend. They're always a little more flirtatious on nights like this, the banter is a little friskier, their bodies are a little closer. Chloe’s mind wanders as she observes the blonde dancing lithely from lamppost to lamppost.

There's an easy kind of elegance to her. Her chin lifted, shoulders back, practically strutting, there's a natural confidence that she exudes and it's intoxicating to be near. Chloe watches long tanned legs swing around the post. Someone learned a new trick apparently.

Chloe flicks ash and starts walking down Sandpiper Lane. The houses here are mainly vacation homes, empty any other time of year. It’s a feeling Chloe knows well; frequently vacant, occupied only when the weather permits. Voices float up the street along with the smell of some kind of grilled meat. It always surprises her that people actually enjoy visiting Arcadia bay. She supposes parts of it are nice, they're simply the parts she's too broke to enjoy.

"Hey," Rachel bounces up to her wearing a sultry smile that can only mean trouble, "you know what this reminds me of?" she nods in the direction of the streetlights and gently takes Chloe’s hand in her own.

Chloe takes a long drag of her cigarette, "hmm no... Maybe you should remind me." she swipes her tongue over her lips automatically, already knowing the outcome of this suggestion. It feels a bit on the nose but Rachel seems past being coy.

Rachel's hazel eyes are soft, pupils wide from the weed they smoked earlier and something else Chloe can't quite place. In that moment, their eyes and hands locked, everything around them suspended, Chloe almost believes that there's something more to this. Something beyond friendship and lust and drunken experimentation, something that could sustain them. The moment passes and Chloe grabs Rachel by the hips letting muscle memory take over as their bodies come together.

She realizes that she's almost forgotten how good this feels. The soft pressure of Rachel's lips, her tongue searching, hips rolling against her own. They haven't done this since a particularly blurry Halloween party last October. A car passes, someone hoots out the window but they hardly notice. After a moment Rachel pulls away, cheeks flush and hair ruffled.

"Oh, is that how it went?" Chloe asks breathlessly. Even though she mocks it now, the memory of their chaste first kiss years ago is burned into her.

"Hmmm," Rachel hums grinning, "yeah something like that."

***

Chloe sighs into her plastic cup before downing the rest of the overly sweet cocktail. Her tolerance for liquor is much higher than her tolerance for vortex club assholes. The bonfire, the shitty pop music, the cheap weed and drinks, it's always the same. Her eyes scan the crowd until they settle on Rachel. She's dancing with a guy who looks too old to be here, maybe someone's brother or a renter from Sandpiper. Something sour rolls around in Chloe’s stomach as she watches him clumsily running his hands over the seam of Rachel's denim shorts.

"She _really_ doesn't care what anyone thinks does she? I can almost respect that." Victoria's cruel saccharine voice catches her off guard.

"Don't you have more important things to do right now Vicky? Like a handful of whatever pills Prescott brought?"

Victoria's sardonic smile doesn't budge. "I would but I'm afraid benzo Barbie over there already swiped them."

Chloe rolls her eyes but says nothing, looking for a way out. She's better at keeping her temper in check lately but Victoria is a professional at getting under anyone’s skin. The only one who seems impervious is Rachel who has the confidence and quick wit to verbally spar with her. Chloe, however, doesn’t have the patience.

About three feet to their right, an inebriated jock suddenly retches into the sand. Victoria's lip curls in disgust "that is fucking disgusting Logan!" she hisses.

Chloe seizes the opportunity and pushes back through the crowd of teens. Only once she's away from the fire and the people does she notice the cool breeze rolling in over the shore. Her body is warm with rum but she pulls her jacket closed anyway. From this angle she can see bats swooping low over the bonfire, catching the moths it’s attracting. The music changes, the sound of the bass echoes the pounding in Chloe’s temple. She shouldn’t have come tonight. There are too many rich kids here, kids who have never had any consequences for their actions. The kind of people who still believe that life is fair and not painful and that they are somehow untouchable. They’re the reason Chloe hates this town.

Her temple throbs again. It’s probably 2am by now but she doesn’t bother to check. She doesn’t have work until noon tomorrow but she’ll probably be late anyways. Nobody will be surprised and her manager will yell but she won’t be fired. The touristy little general store is perpetually understaffed and usually empty anyways. She wants to smoke the joint that's tucked into the cloth of her beanie but she knows the smell would attract moochers so she lights a cigarette instead.

Arcadia Bay is almost charming in this moment. The water glimmering in the moonlight, the air spiced with the scent of pine trees and campfire smoke. There's a pang in her chest when she notices the lighthouse sentineled above it all. A nostalgic yearning for Max and childhood and times that were less fucked. It's a feeling that she knows she'll forget in a moment but for now she holds it close. The clouds are almost glowing in the silver light as they amble across the horizon, stars twinkling in the gaps between them. Although she'd never admit it, Chloe thinks that she might just miss this when she finally gets the fuck out of here.

"D'you know that bitch is telling everyone I took Nathan's Xanax?" rocks crunch against rubber soles as Rachel comes stomping over, shattering the peace. "I don't know what Victoria's problem is but-" she goes quiet as she looks out over the bay. Even when she’s drunk, which is most nights lately, Rachel knows how to read a room.

Wordlessly their hands fall together and Rachel's head slumps onto her shoulder, outrage set aside for now.

"Rach your hand is freezing!" Chloe shoves both of their clasped hands into her jacket pocket.

"If you think that's cold you should feel my legs, " Rachel says "because I sure can't." She presses closer and Chloe can't tell if she's laughing at her own joke or shivering. Probably both. Her long hair is sticky at the ends and smells like shitty watered down beer. She hiccups into Chloe’s shoulder.

"Okay let's get you home before hypothermia sets in." Chloe says, steering them back towards the fire.

"So dramatic." murmurs Rachel, burying her face in the crook of Chloe’s neck. There's the sleepy blink of eyelashes on her throat and another quiet hiccup. The lines of their bodies are blurring and Chloe feels heavy and tired suddenly. Chloe looks at the time on her phone. It’s 2:30am which means Rachel will be sleeping in her bed tonight. The Ambers have a strict rule that if Rachel isn’t home by 1am she can’t come home at all. It was their attempt at enforcing her curfew but the only result so far has been a lot of drunken nights ending with them crawling through Chloe’s window.

Rachel is swaying like a tree in the wind and waving at people as they make their way to the parking lot. Chloe hates this process; she's always been a fan of a well-timed Irish goodbye. Rachel on the other hand, is hugging everyone within reach and making plans she almost certainly won't keep. Chloe ignores this and focuses only on getting home, thinking through the logistics of getting a drunk teenage girl onto her roof and into her room. She could probably manage to do it safely _or_ quietly but certainly not both.

She almost doesn't notice the girl with a pixie cut strutting up to them, but turns around just in time for their eyes to meet. She groans and tries to pull Rachel to the road yet again only to lose her to Dana's embrace. The girls whisper and giggle together and Chloe sighs knowing she's lost her chance to escape.

"Leaving the party early? That’s such a shame. I was having so much fun watching Rachel embarrass herself in front of everyone. Wish you could stay!" Victoria crones sarcastically.

"You know what, that's very sweet Victoria," Chloe deadpans, desperately trying to catch Rachel's gaze, "but you honestly do not have to talk to me every time you see me. We could just go on like that forever, not talking, maybe never even making eye contact. I think it could be… mutually beneficial."

 _Help,_ Chloe tries to signal Rachel telepathically, _stop talking to Dana, just turn around--_

"I don't really have a choice Price. I keep hosting parties and you keep showing up uninvited."

Chloe laughs dryly, "trust me I don't want to come to your stupid fucking parties. There at least 20 other, less painful, things I’d rather be doing right now. Eating glass for example or lighting myself on fire. I do appreciate the free booze though, please tell daddy I say thank you." She mirrors Victoria’s trademark bitchy smile.

Victoria's face is unaffected but her ears are burning red.

"If you don't want to be here then why do you let Rachel drag-"

"Vicky!" Rachel appears next to Chloe finally. Victoria's eyes narrow at the nickname. Chloe wastes no time grabbing Rachel by the hand and making a break for the parking lot. It's so damn close, if they could just get up the hill without interruption...

"What a fantastic party, such a gracious hostess. We wish we could stay but we have a prior engagement. You understand of course!" Rachel is shouting all of this over her shoulder in an affected theater voice, while Chloe drags her along. Her eyes are locked on the rusty metal gate, the final obstacle standing between them and the road home. Freedom is so close she can taste it, or maybe that's just the rum trying to crawl back up her throat.

***

Once the gate is behind them Rachel tugs her hand free of Chloe’s grasp and rounds on her. "Victoria Chase has a crush on you." Her eyes are playful but Chloe can tell she’s searching for a reaction.

"Ha! You're out of your mind. Really you should seek professional help-"

Rachel cocks an eyebrow "I can tell. It’s the way she _stares_ at you, like a snake watching a rat."

"That's... gross. And kind of scary. I’m going to ignore the fact that you just compared me to a rat..."

"That’s how she flirts." Rachel says matter-of-factly.

"It's so sad you know, your mind going at such a young age." Chloe laments, "don't worry though I'll make sure to visit you in the home."

Rachel finally grins and bounces ahead. "Will you feed me mushed peas and play shuffleboard?" she's slurring a little.

“Of course." Chloe finally pulls the joint out of her beanie and lights it. Rachel sidles up next to her and looks at the joint hopefully.

"Can I have a sip?" she asks sweetly.

"I'm sorry, a what? A sip?"

The blonde nods emphatically. _Such a dork._

Chloe takes a long drag and offers her the joint. Rachel shakes her head and faces Chloe, pushing up on tip toes. _Oh._ She holds the smoke in her lungs for a moment before leaning down to meet Rachel's mouth with her own. Their lips part and Chloe gently exhaling smoke as Rachel inhales. She feels the wet of Rachel's tongue in her mouth and a familiar heat begins to build between her thighs.

They part and Chloe knows that the longing is written on her face. She’s never been able to hide anything from Rachel. From their first game of two truths and a lie she’s been able to read Chloe so easily, even from across a room. Even when they’re both drunk on cheap liquor and June nights. Rachel looks up at Chloe and her smile is sweet but there’s something a little dangerous in her eyes. She holds all the power here. Something they've both realized and accepted.

Voices drift up the street from behind them. Dana and Juliet are walking up the street, giggling and shushing each other in turns. They're likely headed for the Ward's house in a nicer part of town, probably to have a sleepover. The normal kind, with popcorn and movies and long discussions about boys. Still Chloe wonders if they ever wake up in the small hours of the morning, still high or tipsy or painfully lonely, limbs intertwined, with the same deep ache. She wonders if they soothe it with rough kisses and sure hands, hushing moans by smothering mouth with mouth. If Dana ever gently brushes the hair off of a sleeping Juliet’s face to kiss her lightly afterwards. Probably not. Rachel and Chloe, they're an anomaly.

***

Getting Rachel onto the roof is almost easier than Chloe expects it to be. There is a frenzy of whispered curses and the creaking of the metal downspout and the ripping of cloth but they make it through her window mostly unharmed.

"I'm sorry about your shirt!" Rachel says much too loudly. She's already partially undressed and pawing through Chloe’s closet, which is mainly full of her own clothes anyways.

"Shhh!" she hisses as Rachel nearly knocks over her lamp. "It's okay, I didn't even like it that much." Chloe lies. It had been one of her favorite shirts and now it was torn straight down the center.

She pulls the ruined shirt off and tosses it into a corner to forget about for at least another month. The mattress groans as she flops onto it. When did sneaking around get so exhausting?

"Oof!" Chloe gasps as Rachel pounces on her, looking very pleased with herself.

"Wanna play a game?" she asks with a mischievous grin. Chloe doesn't want to do anything other than sleep right now but Rachel is straddling her wearing only a bra and very tiny shorts. She can't say no.

"I have chess or battleship, take your pick."

"No," Rachel sighs, flopping down on the bed next to her, "not that kind of game. Let's play... Hmmm. How about fuck marry kill?" she says this as though it suddenly came to her, like she's also surprised that her brain conjured up the idea. Chloe rolls her eyes.

"Sure, you go first." Chloe says. It's better not to resist Rachel when she has an agenda.

"Okay," Rachel pauses as if she hasn't already planned exactly what she wants to say, "what about... Alyssa-"

 

"Which Alyssa? Anderson or Lang?"

"Anderson."

"Ew no."

"Chloe shhh! I'm not done with my list. Okay, Alyssa, Mr. Jacobs, or-"

"Mr. Jacobs who owns the liquor store on Olive St?"

"Yes, obviously."

"Rachel, what the hell! He’s like 70."

"I'm not done!"

"Ugh, who else?"

Rachel pauses biting her lip as if deep in thought.

"Victoria Chase."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Rachel! Will you drop it? "

"Answer."

"No!"

Rachel pouts at her, eyes wide and innocent. "Chloe just play the game."

Chloe sighs. This isn't going to end well. "Fine! I'd marry Mr. Jacobs because he's loaded and close to death. Also, free booze." Rachel nods approvingly at this answer. "I'd kill Alyssa- oh don't look so shocked! - she snitched on us for smoking in your dorm last year. If I wasn't already expelled, I would've been… well, expelled. If your dad wasn't the DA you would’ve been in deep sh-"

"You'd fuck Victoria? Interesting." Rachel says flatly. _Shit._

"Well it only has to happen once, right? Then I never have to see her again."

"Sure, very practical." she refuses to look Chloe in the eye.

"Oh Rach, come on! are you jealous?" Chloe knows this is the wrong thing to say, even as it's leaving her mouth. _Shit!_

Rachel whips her head around, there's a feral look in her eye.

"Jealous? Of Victoria?" she spits these words out like they're bile in her mouth. "Why would you even ask that?"

"You just seem kind of fixated-"

"I'm not fixated! She's the one who's fixated." Rachel is off the bed and pacing the room like a caged animal.

"For months now she's been cornering you at every party. Even if it was because she hates you it doesn't explain why she never actually tries to kick you out or ban me from bringing you. I mean I wouldn’t actually let her do any of that, but she would at least try if she really wanted to do it." She’s getting a little louder, Chloe hopes her mom and step-douche are too deeply asleep to be woken up now. "Also, on top of all that, I can just tell." Rachel looks at her, arms crossed, daring her to disagree.

Chloe treads carefully, "Look maybe she's just gotten used to me showing up to these things. I know you two have been feuding since you moved here but you're going to be seniors this fall and then you'll probably never see each other again. Maybe she's just... Over it." She offers evenly.

Rachel stops at the end of the bed considering this for a moment.

"Victoria isn't the kind to wake up one day and just be 'over it'. She's too competitive."

Chloe groans, "Well _I’m_ over it. Why would it even matter if she did have a crush on me?"

Rachel blushes but lifts her chin defiantly.

"Maybe I don't want to share you." She’s trying to be cutesy and sheepish and Chloe knows this but she feels herself tensing anyway.

She knows what she _should_ say. Something comforting, maybe that she would rather experience the heat death of the universe than spend another moment in Victoria's presence. It’s not necessarily untrue but somehow, she can’t quite bring herself to say it.

Instead she says "I don't want to share you either, but it never stops you from going home with any guy who's just _dangerous_ enough to piss off your dad." She isn't sure why but she wants this to sound angry. Like it's a matter of fairness and nothing else. Still, the hurt crackles at the edge of her voice.

"First of all, maybe you’re not the one who should be giving advice when it comes to bad coping skills and daddy issues. Second of all, I came home with _you_." Rachel says indignantly. Rage bubbles up in Chloe’s chest.

"Yeah, because you had to!" Chloe’s voice is rising but she can't help it. “And don’t act like your home life is even half as shitty as mine. Your dad lied to you and that fucking sucks but at least he’s still alive to be disappointed in you." It’s a shitty thing to say and for the millionth time in her life Chloe wishes she could such the words right back into her lungs. Rachel’s face contorts into something wrathful so briefly that Chloe thinks she might have imagined it.

There's a creak in the hall and both girls whip their heads around. They're silent for a couple minutes, dreading David's harsh knock on the door. It doesn't come. There's the sound of water running and then the closing of her mother's bedroom door. Rachel turns and looks at her again.

"Let's just go to bed now, okay?" Rachel says softly. Chloe nods in agreement despite her anger. There’s no use in pushing the issue. It's something Chloe would've done sober but the smoke and drinks are conjuring a fog in her brain. Fighting feels like too much effort. She pulls off her boots and jeans, not bothering with pajamas. Rachel follows her lead and they settle into her bed, facing opposite walls. There’s a mumble that sounds like goodnight and Chloe pretends not to hear it.

***

Chloe dreams she's the ringmaster of a very small circus. Max is standing on the tightrope high above looking petrified. Chloe yells that she should probably just come down but Max is too far away to hear her. Or maybe she's ignoring her, it's hard to tell from the ground. There's a noise behind her and she sees a lioness in a gaudy red cage. She's growling and chewing the bars.

“Open the door.” the big cat has Rachel's voice.

"No" Chloe says firmly "you'll eat me."

The cats tongue lolls through the bars, great pointed teeth fully on display “Probably... You would love it though.”

"Of course, even the animals here are just as vulgar as you are." Joyce's playful scolding rings out from the stands. She's eating popcorn in the middle row; every other seat is empty.

***

Chloe wakes up at 11 the next morning with a headache and an empty bed.


	2. Things Can't Get Worse If They Only Stay The Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Destroy Me by Wolf Alice

July 22nd is muggy and unbearably grey. There’s a thick quality to the air that even the birds seem weighed down by. Time is moving in a languid, miserable, way. It’s an hour before close, and the Arcadia Bay General Store is empty. The wood shingled exterior and overly rustic interior give the impression of an old attic rather than a souvenir shop. Still, even the stuffiness and faint butterscotch scent do little to mask the reality that it was built less than a year ago. The latest of Sean Prescott’s “improvements”, meant to turn the bay into a tourist destination, it’s already been rejected by the locals. The small warmly lit space is quiet, aside from the drone of table fans and the occasional tinkling of overpriced windchimes.

“What if she’s right though?” Steph Gingrich says while she organizes the postcard display, “maybe Victoria really is interested in you.”

“That’s not the point. Also, Victoria is definitely straight.” Chloe shifts uncomfortably. She’s lounging on the wood paneled counter, combat boots propped on the cash register, ready to slip over the side if Sharon walks in. Fortunately, Sharon was not the sort of manager to check on the shop unless the place was on fire, though that was a real concern with Chloe left in charge.

“You don’t know that, dude.”

“Everyone knows that.”

“Everyone _knows_ Rachel is straight too.” Steph cocks an eyebrow for emphasis.

“Rachel _is_ straight.” Chloe says flatly. She pushes off the counter, boots squeaking on the varnish.

Sometimes she regrets telling Steph about Rachel. She isn’t usually one to overshare but as the weeks dragged on without contact, her misery became too obvious to deny. Now rehashing the details for the umpteenth time, Chloe is beginning to see the futility.

Outside the old wood framed windows, the bay looks ominous. The dark water is white capped, the sky growing greyer by the minute. It’s the sort of weather she usually loves but now it only dredges up memories of a similar day last spring. They had spent the whole day in her room, stereo blasting, Rachel singing along too loud and off-key. Joyce had tasked them with organizing Chloe’s closet but they had abandoned that venture to dance around taking stupid photos and smoking stolen cigarettes. It’s the thing Chloe misses most now, Rachels ability to transform the mundane into something bearable.

“Whatever,” Steph says with a sigh, “you both said some stupid shit, just apologize. You’ve wallowed long enough.”

Chloe chews her lip and focuses on a single seagull bobbing in the roiling bay. It seems unbothered by the turbulence and chaos. It’s just sitting there waiting for a fish, or whatever it is seagulls eat when humans are shuttered in their homes instead of dropping fries and sandwich crusts. She isn’t sure where exactly seagulls are on the food web, Bio was never her thing. Steph sighs again to grab her attention.

“Sorry… I just- I don’t want to talk to her about any of it. I want to forget it ever happened.”

“Chloe, no offense but grow the fuck up.”

Chloe glowers without real malice at the short brunette, who’s now shuffling through a stack of tacky bumper stickers. “I don’t want to.”

“Then nothing will ever get better and you’ll die alone.” Steph says in a cheerful sing-song voice.

 Chloe considers this for a moment, absently fiddling with a tacky otter lamp.

“At least text her happy birthday?” Steph is growing insistent. “Eighteen is a milestone, it would be fucked up if you didn’t.”

Chloe sighs, and pulls her phone out. Steph grins watching her tap the message with her thumb.

_Hey Rach, want to meet me at the diner tonight? I owe you birthday waffles._

Chloe’s stomach sinks immediately after she hits send. Rachel is probably at a Vortex club party right now. She is probably getting fucked on a bathroom sink by a student athlete who doesn’t care if she gets off. She probably hasn’t missed Chloe once over the past few weeks.

Her thoughts are interrupted by her phone chiming.

_How does 7 sound?_

***

The sky finally decides to open as Chloe is walking into the Two Whales. She finds her favorite booth, blue hair dripping on the grimy linoleum, soaked white tee-shirt plastered to her torso. Her mother leaves her with coffee and a promise to give her space. Joyce knows when to leave her daughter alone to sulk.

The sounds of soft jazz and rain slapping the fogged windows lull Chloe into a hazy place adjacent to sleep. It smells like coffee and waffles and whatever the pie of the day is, and it feels like home. Or how home used to feel, before it was ruined.

The coffee she’s nursing isn’t doing much to remedy her exhaustion. If anything, it’s feeding her nerves, her boot jangling with every anxious bounce of her leg. Somehow, she still feels groggy. According to the greasy clock above the counter, it’ll be another 20 minutes until Rachel gets here. She’s never been good at waiting but the familiar glow of the diner lends her some patience. Time crawls by and all the late-night thoughts, the ones that keep her pacing in her bedroom, begin to slip away.

The bell over the door jingles but she doesn’t bother to look. If it were Rachel, she’d feel it. When Rachel arrives anywhere there’s a shift in the room, a slight disruption in the air as every set of eyes seeks her out. Chloe allows herself to drift, eyelids closed, long legs stretching to the edge of the vinyl seat. Clinking silverware and soft voices fade into a hum. Someone clears their throat abruptly and Chloe startles back into reality. She groans at the girl leaning over her table.

“Great day to wear white, Price.” Victoria says with a sniff, arms crossing over her chest. “Everyone can see your bra. It’s kind of trashy.”

“So are your brassy roots but I didn’t go out of my way to tell you.” It’s not true of course, Victoria has clearly spent hundreds on the perfect champagne blonde. It does manage to land though, anger flashing in Victoria’s eyes despite her plastic smile. Chloe leans back against the diner window, ignoring the cool condensation dripping onto her neck. “Fuck off Vicky, I don’t have the patience.”

Victoria doesn’t react to the nickname and instead slides into the opposite side of the booth. Water drops shimmer and run down her tailored trench coat. It’s the kind of thing worn to impress other rich kids but even Chloe can tell it’s expensive.

“Why is there jazz?” Victoria says so flippantly Chloe isn’t sure whether the question is rhetorical. She answers anyways, surprising herself.

“New owners, you’ll never guess who. The jukebox is gone and they only play this shit. The floors are next to go, they already did the lights.” She says gesturing to the new art deco light fixtures which look out of place surrounded by the original dingy décor.

“Huh.” Victoria stares up at the lights, chewing the inside of her cheek pensively. “The Prescott’s really _are_ determined to own everything in this town. I bet your mom hates that, she’s worked here forever.”

Chloe shrugs but says nothing. This conversation feels like a maze that she isn’t sure how to navigate. Toying with Blackwell’s bourgeoise was Rachels forte. Chloe didn’t have the subtlety required, preferring to avoid them altogether.

“Rachel hasn’t been bringing you to my parties lately.” she says running a manicured finger over the condensation on the window, tracing shapes that drip. Chloe keeps her face flat despite the sting. Rachel was right, Victoria is a viper. Her silver earrings shine like scales as she searches for a soft place to strike.

“I’m aware.” Mercifully her voice stays neutral.

“Do you want to know who she _has_ been bringing?”

Chloe drops sugar into her coffee and watches it disappear. She wishes she could follow it down. “Not really.”

“That’s probably for the best. Ignorance is bliss right?” She slides out of the booth and smooths the wrinkles of her coat. “You should come without her sometime.” She says this as if it’s an afterthought. “I’m sure we can find something, or someone, to entertain you.”

Chloe prickles at her casual tone, like she’s just being friendly. Victoria Chase doesn’t do friendly, not without a motive. She bites her tongue and gives Victoria a blank look.

“Drink that before it gets cold.” Victoria chirps before she turns to leave, grabbing her to-go order off the counter without sparing a look over her shoulder. Chloe is alone again, with too much on her mind to fall back under the diner’s hypnosis.

***

Minutes later Rachel arrives. Her blonde hair is dark with rain, converse squeaking on the wet floor as she walks over. Her expression is uncharacteristically somber as she slides into the booth. Chloe’s mouth goes dry, her leg is bouncing again. Rachel smiles cautiously and Chloe fights the urge to reach for her hand.

“Of all the coffee joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.” Chloe drawls, earning a guarded laugh.

Rachels smile fades quickly. She frowns down at the table, hands clasped, shockingly reminiscent of James Amber. “Chloe I—"

“Rachel, stop. Please, I don’t want to talk about it. I just want everything to go back to normal. We had one stupid fight--”

“Chloe in case you haven’t noticed, our normal _isn’t_ normal…” Rachel laughs dryly and chews her lip. Her index finger is tapping the table the way it always does when she’s struggling to words something carefully. Whatever it is Chloe doesn’t want to hear it.

“Ha! No shit it isn’t,” Chloe barks a humorless laugh, “but it’s never mattered before.”

Rachel looks at Chloe like she’s a bird that flew into a window, pitiful and broken. It’s a look that says _don’t struggle; it’ll only make things worse_.

Rachel continues, the heat under her words burning Chloe, “It’s not about the stupid argument, okay? The last few months have been—Well, I’m starting to think this isn’t enough for you.” She sucks her cheek in for a moment, eyes fixed somewhere just above Chloe’s head. Her voice catches when she speaks again. “No matter what I do, the end of this year is going to hurt. I’m scared you won’t be able to cope.”

The honesty of it sears like a brand. There was an unspoken agreement wasn’t there? Everything would stay carefree and fun and wonderful so long as neither of them pried the scab from the wound. The last six months have been rough. Rachel has been applying to colleges, taking the SAT’s, devoting most of her time to finals. Chloe thinks it’s possible she has been too needy, possessive of what little she has left of Rachel’s time. She’s spent the better part of the last year trying to distract herself from how fucked she’s going to be when Rachel leaves for college, maybe she got a bit overzealous. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“You can’t control whether or not I get hurt.” Chloe says, voice leaden. She doesn’t dare look at Rachel now.

“I know,” Rachel says carefully, “but maybe a little distance would help. Maybe it would hurt less when I do leave. We’ve been so attached at the hip, you haven’t bothered making friends or dating really. I let you get too caught up in me, I didn’t push you enough to find… anyone else.” She says it with just enough emphasis that her implication is clear.

It lands like a punch straight to the gut but Chloe just scoffs. “I got over my asinine crush on you years ago, stop making everything about you, Rach. I’m not lonely, I just don’t want to date anyone, okay? Why settle when there are so many choices?” She says with bravado that isn’t entirely false, the damaged burnout thing really was working in her favor lately. “I’m doing fine in that department. But you’re my best friend, when you leave…” her throat tightens, her voice faltering a bit, “it’s going to hurt no matter what. It just will.”

Rachel’s face softens, “You’re right, I’m sorry.” Her eyes are downcast for a moment before she playfully cocks an eyebrow, a coy grin forming at the corner of her mouth. “Also, asinine? Ouch Chlo, but fifteen points for the SAT word.”

“Sorry, was that not the declaration of true love you usually get from your devotees?” Chloe says, knitting her brow in feigned concern.

Rachel laughs freely this time, allowing Chloe to steer the conversation toward familiar waters. “Usually there’s candles and roses and an offer to make sweet love to me.” She hams it up, fluttering her lashes and flipping her hair.

“Roses? Shit, I’m glad I had you when you were still giving it up for free.” Chloe dodges a sugar packet launched across the table. “Do you think I could be grandfathered in or—” the next sugar packet hits her squarely in the lip.

Rachel is laughing, lit up and animated, like nothing even happened. Still, something new and cautious hangs between them like glass. It’s in the way Rachel won’t look her in the eye for more than a second or two, and the way Chloe once again suppresses the urge to hold Rachels hand. She kneads her knuckles against her leg instead.

“So… I got you a present.” Rachel says sliding a bag across the table. The brown paper is splotchy and wet.

“What? It’s _your_ birthday.”

“I know, I’m taking a leaf out of my father’s book and trying to buy your forgiveness.” Rachel winks at her.

“I’ll warn you, I’m a very expensive woman.”

Rachel nudges the package in her direction again. A damp musky scent wafts off the crinkled paper. “Open it in your truck.”

“Is it drugs? I bet it’s drugs.” Chloe waggles her brows.

“If it grows from the earth should it really be considered a drug?”

“Opium grows from the Earth, flower child. However, I will graciously accept this offering. Thanks Rach.” She grins and pulls a box out of her pocket. “I got you something too.”

Rachel opens the box immediately, gleefully tearing through the poorly applied wrapping paper. “Oh Chloe! It’s so pretty.”

“I’m glad you like it. It’s worth roughly three of my paychecks.”

“So, did you steal it from the jeweler on 7th street or the one in the mall?”

“Pawn shop on main, I know how much you love antiques.”

“It’s perfect, thank you.” Rachel’s smile is radiant and Chloe feels lighter.

Rachel fastens the necklace and admires her reflection in the dark window. The pendant, small crystals glittering in the shape of the Leo constellation, rests on her collarbone.

They spend another hour in the comfort of the booth. Joyce brings out a slice of pie with a birthday candle jammed into it haphazardly. The rain and wind are picking up by the time they get back to the Price’s. They watch movies until the wind knocks the power out, at which point it becomes far more amusing to sit in the kitchen and watch through the window as David struggles with the generator. The rest of the night they lay in Chloe’s bed smoking and laughing, watching shadows stretch across the ceiling. Chloe thinks life might not be so terrible if happiness could always come so easily.

***

“I’ve decided,” Rachel says swirling a bright red lollypop over her lips, “if I’m doing Blackwell’s stupid extended senior program, you’re going to go take classes at the community college.”

“Ha! No thanks, I already gave Joyce too much hope when I got my GED. I don’t need her to start expecting more from me. Besides, why waste time on a degree when I already have such a lucrative career selling keychains?”

The walk to the lighthouse is slow today, the debris from yesterday’s storm strewn everywhere. Occasionally a deer or rabbit wanders across their path looking disheveled. The bay is smooth as glass, glittering under the afternoon sun.

“Chloe I’m serious,” Rachel comes to a stop next to an uprooted blackberry bush, “we’re going to study in my dorm together every day, it’ll be fun. You only have to take like two classes to start with. One even! You could help me go over my lines for drama and I could help you learn how to take notes that are actually, you know, coherent.”

The idea of going back to school brings a wave of anxiety, but then again so does the idea of staying here while Rachel moves on in the world. That must be Rachel’s goal, to give her something constructive to do so she doesn’t lose her mind.

“I really thought my bad influence would have been more effective.” Chloe says continuing to walk up the path ahead of Rachel. If she stops moving now, she’ll be too tired to go all the way up. “Where do you get all that pesky ambition?”

“I was spoiled as a child, wasn’t told ‘no’ often enough.” Rachel says cheeks hollowing as she sucks the lollypop obnoxiously. As if anyone dares to tell her no now.

“Thank god you’re not spoiled anymore, what a nightmare that would be.” She drawls sarcastically.

“Just think about it okay?” Rachel jogs up behind Chloe, swatting her butt before gracefully leaping over a fallen tree.

“Quit showing off, Amber.” Chloe shouts ahead, “If you break your neck slipping on lichen, I’m leaving you for dead.”

Rachel flips her off but the gesture is undermined by the wide grin on her face. She darts around in the dappled light, tawny skin and golden hair warm against the greenery. It won’t do Chloe any good to tell her how beautiful she is now. That’s never been their dynamic. She expects something more from Chloe, cynicism or honesty, nothing so common as compliments.

Chloe jogs to catch up to her. Luckily her strides are long enough to make up for her already being winded and she’s only half-panting when she reaches Rachel. She loops a finger in Rachel waist band pulling her so their hips are flush. She relishes the hitch of Rachel’s breath and lingers for just a second before pulling the lollypop out of her mouth and shoving her away in one smooth movement.

Rachel stumbles back against a tree, mouth slightly gaping, as Chloe runs ahead into the clearing. The overlook is empty aside from more debris, blown in by yesterday’s winds. The lighthouse looks more like a rusted oil drum than she remembers. It’s eerily silent aside from metal clinking together somewhere inside an outbuilding. Chloe pauses at the trailhead, unsure why the fine hairs on her arm are standing on end.

There’s the snap of a twig, something colliding into her back, and suddenly the ground is rushing up to meet her. She stumbles for two steps before collecting herself, narrowly avoiding being impaled by a rusted fence post. Rachel’s thighs crush Chloe’s waist, arms circling around her neck. Chloe makes it to a weathered bench before collapsing, Rachel cackling and both of them breathless.

“Very impressive Price, I didn’t know you had the lung capacity. Or the upper body strength.” Rachel says poking her bicep.

“Don’t underestimate me Amber, I’m known for my strength and agility. It’s how I always manage to escape the law.”

“The law has caught you like a dozen times. The law has hand delivered both of us to your mother at least twice.”

“Eh, details.” Chloe wanders near the edge of the overlook.

Carefully grasping the short fence, she nudges a large rock out of place. It bounces down the cliff face, sound reverberating until it’s lost to the waves. She wonders what it must feel like to fall from this height, body twisting and crunching until there’s nothing but seafoam and cold.

“Hey, stop fantasizing about jumping and come do a birthday shot with me.”

Rachel is pulling a bottle of what Chloe assumes is vodka from one of her jacket’s inner pockets.

“Your birthday is over. This is just day drinking.” Chloe says, eagerly eyeing the bottle anyway.

“I get the whole week not just a day.”

“Oh, you just decided that?”

“Yes. Sometimes it’s just that simple.” Rachel says taking a short pull from the bottle. No sooner does she finish swallowing than she’s doubled over gagging. “Gah! Burns.”

Chloe chuckles at her and takes what is perhaps and over-confident swig. It burns all the way down and makes her gasp when she tries to catch a breath afterwards. It feels like battery acid in her esophagus and somehow manages to taste like nothing. She turns the bottle to look at the label, trying not to gag.

“Why would you get fucking Everclear? I can feel a hole in my stomach lining already.”

“Dunno Frank got it for me, I never tried it before.” Rachel is spitting in the dirt.

“Frank? I didn’t know you went to see him alone.” If Rachel catches her tone, she doesn’t show it. She’s busy gulping down water, intermittently swishing and spitting mouthfuls of it.

“I did. I mean I do, sometimes.” She finally manages to say without bothering to look up from her spit puddle. “Don’t worry Chlo, he’s harmless.”

Chloe settles onto the bench next to Rachel but says nothing. Victoria’s words creep into her mind but she doesn’t dare ask. Their friendship still feels a bit precarious only a day after reconciling, and if Rachel was bringing a thirty-something year old dealer to Vortex parties she would’ve heard about it from more than just Victoria.

Rachel unscrews the top and dumps the rest of the bottle into the grass beside them. “goodbye evil swill. I’m already lightheaded. I think I’m dying.”

“That’s just what it feels like now that the corn has infiltrated your body, let it take you...”

“He told me to mix it with something and I thought he was exaggerating.”

“I want a cigarette but my insides might catch on fire.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence. The only sound interrupting the crash of waves hitting rock below, is an occasional bird chirp or Rachel quietly groaning. Chloe tilts her head back and watches the clouds blur above them, amazed that she is in fact tipsy.

“Hey Chlo?”

“Mhmm?”

“You’re my best friend.”

“Ditto.” The corner of Chloe’s mouth tugs up into a grin, “You’re so sweet when you drink grain alcohol at 3 pm.”

“As opposed to?” Rachel asks, fitting herself under the arm Chloe has draped across the back of the bench.

“Well you’re sleepy when you drink wine and slutty when you drink vodka.”

“What about tequila?”

“You blacked out and tried to fight the statue of Jerimiah Blackwell the last time you were drunk off tequila.”

“Ha! Yeah, I still have the pictures. Which is good because I don’t remember anything after pre-gaming in my dorm. I don’t even know who’s party we went to.”

“I don’t think we actually ended up going to a party at all that night. I’m pretty sure I took you to my house and made you midnight breakfast. You were passed out by like one.” Chloe can still see that part of the night clearly, Rachel eating French toast with her hands, syrup dripping onto the sheets. Rachel had been crying over some rumor Nathan started about her, though she leaves that part out of the retelling.

“You take good care of me Chloe.” Rachel sighs, pressing closer.

“Yeah?” Chloe moves, resting her chin on the crown of Rachel’s head. She feels herself blush, the warmth of Rachel’s praise spreading in her chest and flushing her cheeks. “It’s because your parents are paying me off.”

“No way,” Rachel laughs, breath warm on her collarbone “that would require them actually giving a shit about my happiness and wellbeing.”

The words make Chloe ache more than she expects. That ache combined with the smell of the blonde hair pressed against her lips, sandalwood and florals, is pulling something loose in her. A few weeks ago, she would have shrugged it off, but now it’s enough to make her eyes sting. She shifts suddenly, grabbing Rachel by the shoulders, putting distance between them. Rachel looks up at her, confusion and the remnants of something softer.

“Hey, you know what would immortalize our friendship _and_ really piss them off?” Chloe asks, shaking her.

Rachels eyes light up, she’s already caught on. “Tattoos?”

The fire in Rachels smile is so familiar, nostalgia burns in Chloe’s chest. It reminds her of all the scheming and hope, back when they still believed that both of them would make it out of this town. Back when the only obstacle was money, instead of careers and family and the overwhelming pressure of societal expectations.

Chloe just smiles right back. “What better way to celebrate your birth week?”


	3. Wild Women Don't Get The Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from First Love/Late Spring by Mitski

Beads of sweat drip down Rachel Amber's neck as she carries a box marked "linens" across the dorm room. The floor is littered with boxes and balled up newspaper her dad had shimmied between fragile items. Despite the precautions she has already managed to dent the shade of her bedside lamp.

The voice of the local radio station’s elderly meteorologist crackles through the silence. Rachel turns the dial of her radio until his voice comes through clearly. "-- severe thunderstorm warning this evening at approximately 5pm. Please be sure to find shelter and--"

She turns the dial again, stopping when she reaches a bubbly pop song. It's the kind of music she usually can't stand but for now it works as background noise.

The sky outside has taken on an odd green tinge like congealed pea soup. Her pulse is in her throat. It just does that from time to time. Her hands feel numb, feel like someone else's. That happens too. She rocks back on her heels waiting for it to pass. Her anxiety is harder to predict lately, reality slipping through her fingers at random.

She reaches for her cell and glances at the clock on the screen. Chloe’s shift will be over in 15 minutes, an eternity.

She wants to call her now and tell her that it’s an emergency, that she needs to get here as fast as possible. She wants to smoke too much weed and outrun the feeling creeping down her spine. She wants Chloe draped over her new bed, smirking and sarcastically reading her script for drama class. She wants to be kissed roughly, pushed into her bare mattress, thoughts dissolving to nothing when her body takes over. But she's trying now. If she can't learn to handle it alone, next year will be impossible.

So, despite her stomach twisting and heart racing, she tosses the phone on her desk and makes the bed.

It begins to rain lightly, fat drops hitting the windows and beige concrete sidewalk two stories below. Steam rises from the pavement in the parking lot, curling between cars.

She unpacks textbooks, clothes, electronics, makeup, more clothes. There's a lump in her throat. She sets up her laptop on the desk. Her hands are shaking. Makeup goes next to the mirror. Her reflection looks blank, foreign. Shampoo goes.... She's gasping for air. It's too hot, that must be it. It's too hot and her brain is going to shut down.

She searches her purse, she had Xanax somewhere. It's weaker than she's used to, .25mg tablets prescribed by an actual doctor. She doesn't want to ask Frank for this, wriggling out of his grasp was too much effort. Maybe Nathan...

Her phone chimes, and she lunges for it, barely noticing as the contents of her purse scatter across the floor. It’s Chloe asking if she wants company. Yes, please yes, a thousand times.

"Always." She types back, trying to sound casual.

Rachel walks over to the still bare twin bed and curls herself into a ball right in the center. She tucks her knees up to her chin and tries to make herself small. Maybe her body will collapse in on itself like a dying star until she simply ceases to exist. That might be nice. There's a growing tightness in her throat that she can’t seem to swallow.

Only Chloe understands it, how she can be here and also not. She had told Rachel about the time it happened to her at William’s funeral. How she felt like her mind was slipping away, floating somewhere just above, watching. She told Rachel how numb her hands were, how hard it was to move or speak, how she had barely heard the voices around her. It was the first time Rachel had felt safe admitting a weakness.

A wispy spider is spinning a web in the corner of the ceiling. The rain picks up outside, slapping the window in sheets. Thunder rumbles low in the distance. The storm is coming early.

A half hour later she hears the jangling of familiar boots on the other side of the door. She flings it open at the first knock, dragging Chloe into the room and slamming the door behind them. Her blue eyes are dark with concern and Rachel wants to collect herself, do or say something normal, but it's too late now.

"I'm so sorry Chlo I just can’t--" Rachel inhales sharply, "I just can't fucking breathe. I can't find my pills anywhere."

Chloe’s arms circle around her, pulling her close. The touch is firm, meant to serve as an anchor, but she’s already drifting so far. Rachel doesn't know how it happens but suddenly she’s on her knees, clinging to Chloe’s waist. Chloe smooths her hair and hums softly as Rachel trembles against her.

"Okay, angel, it’s okay." Chloe crones, gently leading her to the bed. "You haven't had one of these in a while, I know it fucking sucks."

Rachel nods, too relieved to be embarrassed by the cooing. Chloe pulls her closer in response, dragging her into the duvet. Her whole body is shaking, stomach tight, back rigid. She feels helpless and it doesn't fit, she doesn't want to be this. Yet here she is, a bundle of exposed nerves, raw to the slightest touch.

Rachel squeezes her eyes closed and focuses; Chloe’s fingers stroking her head, Chloe’s voice low and calm, Chloe’s scent cigarettes and pine tar.

Her voice is steadier this time. "I'm so sorry. I tried to- I just... I couldn't."

"You know I don't mind. I don’t want you to be alone when you feel like this." Chloe says, squeezing her hand.

"You can’t always be here."

"Well I was today. Let's just find your meds so it doesn't happen again okay?"

"Yeah." Rachel nods, glad for any small task to distract her buzzing mind.

Chloe stomps through the minefield of boxes, tearing them open at random. Rachel paws through her purse one more time, just to be sure. They both pause to listen as Victoria’s shrill voice echoes outside in the hall, some unintelligible command. Someone, probably Taylor or Courtney, answers and a door slams closed. Chloe shrugs and goes back to searching but Rachel stays frozen, distracted by the reminder of more responsibilities. If she wants to keep her place in the Vortex Club’s chain of command, she’ll need to greet them eventually.

"Aha!" Chloe holds a Ziplock full of pill bottles over her head like a trophy.

"Priceless what would I ever do without you?" She grins, finally, when Chloe blushes at the nickname.

"Have another panic attack probably." Chloe says smirking. She dodges the pillow Rachel tosses at her head.

Chloe hands Rachel the bag and watches her shake two tablets into her palm. If Nathan was here instead, it would be a bar and three hours listening to him whine about his dad. Sometimes that wasn't so bad. Sometimes they would just get high and chain smoke and talk about nothing in particular. It’s easier when he isn’t around Victoria, when they’re just two empty people talking about being hollow.

Chloe breaks the silence, "this bag is uh, getting heavier."

"yeah, I’m trying a new mood stabilizer and something for sleep."

"I didn't know they were switching your meds," Chloe straddles the wooden chair in front of the desk, eyes narrowed in concern, "have you been feeling worse lately?"

There's no sense in lying to Chloe, not now anyways. Not when she's too exhausted to even bother to make it convincing.

"A bit, yeah. I think it's just school stress. It’s no big deal, really." Chloe nods but doesn't look convinced.

“Okay well,” Chloe pulls a one hitter out of her back pocket, “want to get high and fuck with Victoria’s whiteboard?”

***

Despite the first day of school being desperately boring, Rachel feels good for her first few classes. She highlights every syllabus, takes notes without doodling, introduces herself to teachers and new students, and doesn’t laugh when she overhears Victoria whining to Principal Wells about someone Vandalizing her dorm. Everything is predictably bland until English class.

Nathan is reclining in his chair far enough that it’s rocked back on two legs. When he sees Rachel, he slams it back onto four and gestures at the desk next to his.

“Where have you been?” He asks giving her a perfunctory once over. His eyes linger on the new tattoo on her calf but he doesn’t mention it.

“Around.” She shrugs. “I got sick of going to the same parties every week. Plus, my dad made me go to the lake house for ‘family time’.”

“Sounds nice, but you’re full of shit. You’ve been shacked up with that guy from the community college, haven’t you?” He spits out the words community college like they taste sour.

“First of all, Arcadia Community College is one of the best public community colleges on the entire west coast. Second, my relationships are none of your goddamn business.” She keeps her voice steady and unaffected, knowing all of this will be reported to Victoria.

“I’m only asking as your friend, no need to get so defensive.” He says with a shrug.

“Now who’s full of shit?” she pulls out her textbook as the teacher enters the room.

Mrs. Hoida walks to the front of the class and starts going over the syllabus. It’s nearly identical to every other syllabus that Rachel has gotten today but she still dutifully highlights anything that sounds important. Nathan passes her a note and she sweeps it onto the floor hoping that bruising his rather delicate ego will get him to behave.

By the time they finish reviewing the packet, everyone is becoming restless. Mrs. Hoida, perhaps sensing this, passes out their first homework assignment and begins separating the class into groups of three. Rachel is, mercifully, separated from Nathan and sent to sit with Brooke Scott and another girl who she doesn’t recognize.

“Hey, Brooke.” Rachel says brightly as she sits across from them. Brooke mumbles a dull ‘hey’ in response but continues staring at her phone. _Well okay._ Fighting the urge to roll her eyes she turns to the unfamiliar brunette and smiles. “Hi, I’m Rachel.”

“I’m Max, it’s nice to meet you.” She smiles shyly and something nudges around in the back of Rachels mind. Maybe she’s seen her at a party or on social media, she can’t seem to pin it down.

“Nice to meet you too. Well Max, I hope you like analyzing poetry as much as I do because I think we’ve lost her.” She says gesturing to Brooke who is already across the room talking to Mrs. Hoida.

“Um, is she trying to switch groups?” Max looks almost apologetic.

“yeah probably.” Rachel snorts. “Oh, it’s not because of you. That’s just how Brooke is. You see, she’s _smarter_ than the rest of us, so she always wiggles her way out of group projects.” This time she does roll her eyes, testing the waters, and gets a smile in return. She decides to leave out that Brooke also accused her of sleeping with Mr. Johnson for a better grade in Trig. If that were true, she wouldn’t have settled for a damn B.

“Hmm. Well I think we can handle this,” Max eyes her under doe lashes, “even without her superior intellect.” Her tone is still careful, no bite behind it. So unlike Victoria or Nathan or even Chloe who means well but is often careless with her words.

They spend the rest of their time in class tearing the sonnet apart stanza by stanza. It’s not hard, Rachel grew up on Shakespeare after all, but it’s meticulous and boring. Max is unsurprisingly clever but a bit disorganized. She makes small notes in the margins of her text book but isn’t even looking at her highlighter or touching the multicolored sticky tabs that Rachel had offered to share. Every now and then Max’s mouth tugs to one side or she pushes her bangs off her brows or the light from the window catches the blue of her eyes and Rachel thinks _I’ve seen you._

“So Max, where are you from?” She asks, louder and more suddenly than she intends, and the brunette jumps a little.

“Uh, here actually. My family moved to Seattle right before high school but they let me come back for the extended senior program.” _Well fuck._

Max is _that_ Max. Chloe’s Max. She has to be. Something bubbles in Rachels chest.

“Oh wow, Seattle huh? Land of coffee and heroin.” She does sound hysterical. “Ha! I don’t know why I just said that, what a weird time to bring up the opioid crisis. I’m going to run to the bathroom I’ll be right back.” She says hurrying to the door. Max gives her a confused but polite smile and watches her leave.

She hurries to the furthest sink and climbs up so her arm rests on the window ledge. It’s a little dangerous, but the only way to get decent reception in here. It’s only a quarter to three, Chloe is still at work. She dials the stores number, heart in her throat, and listens to it ring once, twice, six times before someone finally picks up.

“Arcadia Bay General Store, how can I help you?”

“Jesus Steph! You guys have an awful response time, that was like a half dozen rings and I know you aren’t busy. What if it was an emergency?”

“Why would anyone call _here_ in an emergency?”

“Touché. Can I please talk to Chloe? Oh, it’s Rachel, by the way.”

“Yeah I figured.” Steph’s voice is muffled for a second before Rachel hears her yelling. “Price. Price! Wife’s on the phone.”

There’s some shuffling and a noise like static before Chloe’s voice comes through. “Rachel?”

“She’s here!” Rachel hisses. Is it anxiety or giddiness building in her chest, threatening to spill over? Her foot slips a bit on the porcelain of the sink and her stomach drops before she rights herself again.

“Who is? Wait aren’t you supposed to be in class right—"

“ _Max._ She’s here, in my class. We’re study buddies.”

There’s a long pause and she can hear windchimes through the phone.

“Umm, are you sure? That it’s my Max?” she trips over the ‘my’ but Rachel hardly notices.

“She said she grew up here then moved to Seattle, but her parents let her transfer for the senior program. She looks different from your pictures but she has blue eyes and freckles.”

“Yeah,” Chloe’s voice is raspy around the edges, “that sounds like Max.”

Suddenly the giddiness is gone and Rachel wonders if she should have kept it a secret. Her foot slips again and this time her shin hits the faucet, scraping her skin away in a thin line. She cusses under her breath.

“Well, I have to had back to class but text me when your shift is over?”

“I will. Thanks for telling me Rach.” She still sounds off, but it’s validating none the less.

***

Chloe sighs loudly for the eleventh time in the last hour. Instead of asking her what’s wrong yet again, Rachel turns away from the desk and looks at her. Chloe is splayed out across the bed staring at the ceiling. Rachel sighs and saves the miniscule progress of her art history homework, before closing her laptop and flopping on the bed next to Chloe. Somewhere downstairs a pan clatters across the kitchen floor, followed by a few choice words from Joyce.

“I can’t believe Joyce made quinoa. That was very Portland of her, don’t you think?”

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.” Chloe groans. Again.

“About the quinoa?”

“No, Max.”

“Right. Chloe just talk to her. She probably didn’t tell you because she was nervous about your reaction.”

Chloe lifts herself onto an elbow and gives Rachel a hard look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don't act like you don't know. Sometimes you can be a bit… intense.” Rachel says pointedly.

“Yeah, whatever. She still should have told me.” Chloe protests getting up to pace around the end of the bed. “We have… We had a dynamic, okay? We don’t keep secrets.”

Rachel sighs and pushes her palms over her eyes until colors burst behind her lids. “Okay well I don’t like keeping secrets either. I can’t hide it from her forever Chloe, it’s impractical. She's living right down the hall.”

Chloe stops pacing and sits on the edge of her desk. She looks exhausted, the flesh under her eyes is purple with lack of sleep, the wiry frame of her body sharper than usual. It takes all of Rachel’s willpower to stay on the bed when she wants to pull Chloe close, brush her thumb across her sleepless eyes, heal whatever she can. It’s hard for her to keep her hands to herself sometimes, fumbling for the right words feels hollow when her body can convey so much more. She sits on her hands and waits.

“I’ll talk to her, okay? Just—I need some time.” It’s odd, Chloe has always been the type to rip the bandage.

“Okay.”

Chloe pushes off the desk with a sigh and settles in next to her, burying her head in the crook of Rachel’s neck. They share a patch of late afternoon sun that’s stretching across the bed and pass a cigarette back and forth in silence. The stress is still there, energy constantly crackling under Rachel’s skin, but the parts of her that are flush against Chloe go quiet. Tomorrow will bring another headache but this is enough for now.


	4. Until Morning Hits the Windshield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Scorpio Rising by Soccer Mommy
> 
> Fair warning, emotions are getting heavier so this chapter is a little angsty and pretty smutty!

“So, she’s opening the basement door when she hears knocking- oh shit wait… no she doesn’t… she- uhh, sees a puddle of blood under the door! I think…”

“Trevor if you don’t finish this goddamn story in the next 5 minutes, I’m going to call your mom to come pick you up.”

“Hey man, storytelling is a craft! It takes time- Ow! Stop throwing shit!”

For the third time tonight, everyone is pelting Trevor with empty beer cans and marshmallows.

The September air is cool but still without the bite it usually carries by now. The forest surrounding the campground is whirring with the sounds of insects and rowdy teens, both clinging to the last fleeting days of warmth. Chloe is four shots deep and uncomfortably high at this point, though she’s trying not to let it show. Her back aches from the hour it’s spent flat against the picnic table while she watches the sky through the pines. Every time she chooses a star, the peripheral heavens spin.

Somewhere on the other side of the bonfire, Dana playfully berates Trevor.

“They’re totally going to hook up tonight.” Rachel says, absentmindedly running her hand along Chloe’s forehead.

“I thought Dana was with Logan?”

“They’ve been over for ages Chlo, try to keep up.” She teases, tugging a strand of faded blue hair.

Chloe lazily reaches up and grabs a blonde strand in retaliation. Her limbs feel heavy and slow. She scoots her head onto Rachels lap and even that small motion sets her head spinning. She grips the edge of the table, ignoring the splinters. Rachel notices and rubs her shoulders, mouth twitching into an almost grin.

Typically, Chloe knows how to pace herself but tonight she doesn’t have the willpower. Her thoughts keep returning to Max, or the absence of her. Her mind cycles through the dog-eared memories: Max’s voice emanating from the tape recorder, the pressure of her knees pushing into her ribs while she choked on tears, nights spent waiting on emails that would never come. She chases the bitter taste in her throat with more vodka. Sad indie music is coming from someone’s shitty portable speaker, tinny and mournful. It’s the kind of music Max likes now, according to Rachel. Everything about tonight feels like a slight.

Chloe turns away from the fire and the figures dancing around it. Something long-legged and wispy scuttles up her arm but she makes no attempt to brush it away. Whatever it is can sting her or bite her and suck her dry for all she cares. Rachel’s hand moves down her shoulder to brush the insect away, passing over the tattoo on her bicep. A slender index finger traces the ribbon making her shiver.

“Poor timing with the ink. I wish we could’ve gone swimming at least once this summer.” Rachel sighs.

“Me too.”

“I’m glad flesh-eating bacteria couldn’t claim a limb though.” Rachel rotates her leg slightly to admire the dragon on her calf.

“I wouldn’t mind so much. I don’t really need both arms. It almost feels excessive having two.”

“I don’t know,” Rachel murmurs, tracing Chloe’s jaw with a cool finger, “it would be a shame if you lost that hand.” Chloe inhales sharply. Maybe the inuendo was unintentional but then again, nothing Rachel does is unintentional. 

“I’m gonna go make sure nobody’s making out in the truck.” Chloe says trying to sound casual. It’s as good an excuse as any, she caught a couple of sophomores in the bed last summer. She attempts to sit up and flails for a moment, limbs taking too long to respond. An empty bottle careens off the table landing with a soft thud in the dirt.

“Know what? I’ll stay.” She slurs into Rachels hip.

“Don’t worry, nobody is going to take their clothes off anywhere near that thing,” Rachel snorts, “the risk of tetanus is too high.”

“I distinctly remember you riding shotgun topless on New Year’s and here you are, tetanus free.”

Rachel grins wide. “I’m vaccinated babe.” She says in an overly sultry voice. “Besides I thought we had an agreement: if I don’t remember doing it, it never happened.”

Chloe opens her mouth to respond but closes it immediately as her stomach lurches. The back of her throat tastes like the cherry Jello shots Rachel made her take earlier. She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a breath. A cigarette would be good right now.

“Hey Rachel.” Justin’s voice is coming from her left, she keeps her eyes closed and swallows the acid building in her esophagus. “Uhh… Is Chloe okay?”

“She’s fine, weak constitution is all.” Rachel says, gently patting her thigh. Chloe tries to tell her to fuck off, but it comes out a jumbled moan.

“Oh, okay... So uh, when are you applying to USC?”

“October. Their performing arts program is competitive though, I might have to go with my safety.”

As if Rachel Amber needs a back-up. Schools had been vying for her since Junior year when her portrayal of Abigail in Blackwell’s production of The Crucible earned her a spot at a fancy theater camp in San Francisco. She had come home from camp that fall with scholarship offers and a collection of long-distance suiters. People were beginning to notice her. Important people who could offer her the kind of future she deserved. One that didn’t involve Chloe.

“Nah, you’ve got it in the bag. You’re the only reason anyone even watches the school plays.”

“Thanks Justin, that means a lot.” Chloe doesn’t need to look to know Rachel’s giving him a big, fake, syrupy smile.

“I’m just being honest.” He says sounding pleased with himself. “You know, when Trev and I finally open our skate shop you should model for the website.”

It goes on like this for a few minutes, but Chloe isn’t listening. It’s hard to think about anything other than the saliva welling up around her jaw. Justin is trying to say something impressive and Rachel is pretending to give a shit and Chloe needs to vomit. She scoots down the table until her dangling feet hit dirt. It’s not very graceful but she manages to pull herself up.

Unsteady but determined, she makes her way to the truck. It’s past midnight and the underbrush is humming with insects and other scuttling beasts. Her hand trembles as she reaches out for the truck, cool metal damp with dew. She grips the door handle and tries to retch as quietly as possible. Her stomach already feels better, even as the vodka burns her throat for the second time. She fishes Rachels mouthwash out of her glovebox and rinses until spearmint replaces the taste of bile.

It feels safe in the cab of the truck. Curling against the door, knees resting on the steering wheel, her head finally stops spinning. The pack of cigarettes she keeps wedged over the visor is empty, a small tragedy. Bumming one off of a stranger would take too much effort at this point.

In the rearview mirror she can see Rachel heading towards the truck. Backlit by the glow of the fire, Chloe can’t make out her features but it doesn’t matter. It’s in the way she’s sauntering over, the loose sway of her hips, the way she’s almost dancing but not quite. Chloe knows that walk anywhere, and her stomach coils in anticipation.

There’s a scraping noise, rusted door against metal frame, as Rachel gets in beside her. She slides over until she’s resting in the crook of Chloe’s arm. “I have provisions.” She says holding up a pack of cigarettes. “Don’t smoke my lucky.”

“You really are an angel.” Chloe says sliding a cigarette between her lips, the flick of the lighter illuminating Rachel’s face. There are flecks of grey ash caught in her hair. “Also, nobody flips a lucky anymore grandpa.”

“I need all the luck I can get.” Rachel smiles and presses closer. “Do you want to tell me why you ran away?”

“I didn’t run away, I just wanted to give Justin room to embarrass himself. Plus, I didn’t want to puke in your lap.”

“Was it the college talk?”

“No Rach. Fucking… Just stop bringing that up. I just needed some space, okay?” Chloe takes a long drag, savoring the burn. “Also, I really did puke.”

“Space from me?” Rachel’s voice sounds small.

“What? Never.”

“Were you thinking about Max again?”

“A little.”

Wordlessly, Rachel pulls Chloe’s beanie off and works her fingers into her hair, nails pleasantly raking over scalp. It’s a ritual that they always seem to return to, Chloe’s wounds festering, Rachel coaxing the hurt out before she even knows how to express it. She sinks into the touch and exhales slowly, watching the smoke rise until it’s carried through the cracked window.

“I don’t know how to talk to her anymore. I don’t want her to know how different things are now. It’s only going to make her sad and, Jesus Christ, I’m sick of pity. I’m sick of my life not being…” her words catch, and she swallows roughly. “I’ve just been feeling really… raw, lately.”

“Well I understand why you’re nervous but I still think you should at least try talking to her. Do you think you might also be on edge because your dads anniversary is coming up?” Rachel asks, still massaging.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Five years…” She swallows again but the lump in her throat doesn’t budge. “Fuck.”  

“It’s going to be okay Chlo.” Rachel says, her voice low and smooth as honey. “You’re so fucking strong. He would be proud of you.”

Whether it’s true or not doesn’t really matter, Rachel said it so she almost believes it. Chloe flicks her cigarette out the window and pulls Rachel onto her lap. Her hair smells like coconut shampoo and campfire smoke, the damp heat of her cheek comes to rest on Chloe’s chest. They watch the group of teens struggle to put out the campfire before making their way into tents for the night.

Rachel turns to face her, and Chloe’s stomach coils tighter. Her chest flutters, heart against ribs like wings against cage. Their mouths are so close, Chloe can taste the whiskey on Rachel’s breath. Her eyes are half-lidded but intense, cheeks pink and warm and full of August sun.  

“Rach I—” Chloe’s voice snags on jagged emotion in her throat. Tears come before her eyes even feel the sting.

“It’s okay.” Rachel’s hand is on her cheek, featherlight.

Chloe hates crying, it’s weak and self-indulgent. Rachel’s brows are knit and she’s biting the inside of her cheek, so cautious and unsure. Chloe knows the look; the one people wear at funerals and parent teacher conferences and grief counseling. It’s reserved for fragile people and delicate situations. Her face burns and she clenches her jaw.

“Hey. _Hey_. Chloe look at me.” Rachel angles Chloe’s chin with a finger. “What can I do?”

“I need—"

Her lips are still forming the words when Rachels crush against them. Chloe’s body responds before she has time to think. She sucks Rachel’s bottom lip into her mouth roughly, savoring her gasp. Rachel pulls away and hazel eyes lock onto blue, just long enough for Chloe to catch a glimpse of something feral. _Rachel needs this_. The realization sends heat rushing through her, gathering between her thighs. The alarm bells in the back of her mind are silenced by the soft warm lips traveling across her jaw.

Rachel’s hand is against her cheek, holding her still for a moment. Her gaze moves over Chloe’s face, searching. Chloe can’t recall anyone making her feel this vulnerable before and it’s too much. She squirms against the feeling, turning away when her eyes begin to sting with fresh tears. The hand on her cheek slides to her jaw. Rachel steadies her, brining their mouths together again. This time she kisses Chloe slow and deep. There’s no trace of the usual coy games, too much push and not enough pull. When they separate again, Rachel looks uncertain.

“This is probably a mistake.” Rachel says without taking her eyes off of Chloe’s lips.

“Probably.” Chloe leans in for another kiss but gets a firm hand to the shoulder instead.

“Do you really think we should keep doing this?”

“Rachel, I don’t know.” Chloe hears the whine in her voice but can’t seem to stop it. “I’ve just had a really shitty week and I want you to make it go away.”

Rachel chews her lower lip, and hesitates for a moment before sighing.

“Okay, I can do that.”

Rachel tugs Chloe’s shirt over her head before doing the same with her own, tossing both onto the dash. Chloe unhooks Rachel’s bra with one hand, a skill that she only recently perfected and one that she’s rather proud of. Rachel’s breasts are full and a shade paler where her bikini blocked the sunlight all summer, her stomach lean and slightly soft. A sharp exhale puffs through Chloe’s lips involuntarily.

 Rachel looks good. It’s not surprising because she’s _Rachel_ and she has that _something_ that drives anyone with eyes a bit mad, but beyond that there’s an ineffable quality that Chloe can’t quite pin down. The delicacy of her skin when it rises to gooseflesh at the drag of a finger, or the way the shadows play over her hips when she shimmies out of her jeans. How even the air in Chloe’s lungs seems to follow her when she pulls away.

The next few minutes are a blur of hands and shifting weight and faces damp with either tears or sweat, she isn’t quite sure. The only thing Chloe is certain of now is the rocking of Rachel’s hips when she slides a tentative finger inside her, and the slick heat she finds there. Rachel inhales sweetly and it’s cute but not what Chloe’s after. She guides another finger into her earning a moan. Rachel’s mouth trails sloppily across Chloe’s collarbone and up to her neck. They find a good rhythm, softly at first and then rougher, until Rachel is panting and grinding herself into Chloe’s palm.

How easily everything else dissolves. Max, her father, David, all of it disappears. Chloe’s problems are reduced to chasing sighs and moans until they become only her name whimpered into her neck and she feels Rachel shudder against her. Bringing her hand to cup the base of Rachels neck, Chloe revels in the way she’s come undone, eyes heavy, lips parted and yielding.

The moment passes and Rachel stirs against her. She kisses down Chloe’s neck, stopping to nip at her collarbone, before reaching a pierced nipple and gently tugging the barbell between her perfect teeth. Chloe is startled and embarrassed frankly, by the noise that she makes as a result. Rachel giggles and leans forward to lightly bump Chloe’s nose with her own.

“Oh, shut up.” Chloe says thickly, nipping at the end of Rachels nose.

Rachel’s hand fumbles with the buttons on Chloe’s jeans until they give, shoving them down her thighs followed by her underwear. Chloe’s breath hisses slowly through clenched teeth when the first finger pushes into her, and Rachel sighs in return. Rachel adds another finger and hooks them, caressing her until she draws out a harsh gasp. Immediately Chloe knows this surrender is a mistake. Rachel lets out a breathy “Ha!” preening shamelessly.

It only takes a few strokes before Chloe’s on the edge. She can feel herself tightening around Rachel’s fingers with every slow pump, her hips rolling forward, out of her control.

“Are you close?” Rachels asks, all but batting her lashes.

Chloe swallows roughly and nods against her better judgement.

“Good.” Rachel smirks and pulls her fingers out torturously slow.

“For fucks sake!"

Rachel silences Chloe with a wink before lowering her head and dragging wet kisses across her hips. Her breath hitches as the kisses get sloppier and lower. The slack but emphatic movement of Rachel’s tongue leaves shuddering wakes. Chloe’s breath is ragged as she reaches the edge again, this time with the foresight to grab Rachels hair, holding her in place. It’s rougher than she intends but Rachel moans her approval. One last swipe of her tongue and Chloe comes, crying out before she can bite off the sound.

Rachel grins up at her, chin slick and shining. “So… I guess I did okay?”

“Don’t gloat Rach, you’ll ruin the moment.” Chloe says, breath still uneven. “But yeah, that was okay.”

They dress in comfortable silence. Chloe lights a joint she had hidden in her CD case and Rachel stretches across the seat languidly flipping through the disks, still looking vaguely smug. She reaches across and turns the key in the ignition, popping a disk into the stereo. The opening chords are familiar but not at all what Chloe expects to hear.

_“She grew up in an Indiana town—"_

Chloe chuckles and looks over at Rachel who’s already swaying and humming.

“How the hell did you find a Tom Petty album in my vehicle?”

“Maybe Joyce left it in here?” Rachel shrugs, plucking the joint from between her lips. “Or the universe just knew that we needed him.”

Chloe watches her dance through the haze. The smoke curls around Rachel’s limbs, softening her edges. Every flip of her hair and swing of her hips fuels the smoldering mess in Chloe’s chest. Sadness and anger are familiar enough to cope with, but pining she isn’t quite sure how to handle. She smokes until she’s too numb to feel anything but detached amusement.

_“Last dance with Mary Jane, one more time to kill the pain.”_ They belt the chorus too loudly, Rachel flipping her hair wildly and Chloe laughing as she chokes on the smoke.

There’s a sharp tap on the passenger side window startling both of them and causing Chloe to drop the lit joint onto her lap where it burns a small hole in the denim. Rachel rolls down the fogged window and Juliet’s face comes into view, sly smile replaced with a hanging jaw and raised brow when she locks eyes with Chloe.

“Oh! Uh, I’m sorry I thought you were with… Ah, I’m sorry.” Juliet stutters wringing her hands and backing away.

“It’s okay we were just smoking.” Rachel offers with a smile that’s almost convincingly innocent. “Want a hit?”

Juliet eyes Chloe warily but accepts the offer and slides in next to Rachel. It’s awkward for all of thirty seconds before Rachel strikes up a lively conversation with an easy sort of grace that Chloe suspects is exceptionally rare. They talk about teachers and Vortex drama and college and Chloe mostly listens but it’s comfortable. Rachel has a knack for bridging the gaps between people, smoothing the uneven social footing. By the time Juliet is scooting back out to return to her tent, the tension has all but dissipated. Before she closes the door, she shoots Rachel a knowing look that Chloe pretends not to notice.  

“Well that wasn’t ideal.” Chloe says, breaking the silence.

“It’s fine, Juliet’s nosey but she won’t tell anyone.”

“So, who exactly did she think you were fucking in here?” Chloe asks nonchalantly.

“Probably not you.” Rachel says with a wink.

“Rachel...”

“Okay. There’s a guy I’ve hooked up with a couple times. I dragged him to a couple Vortex parties over the summer when we were… ah, anyway a few people got the wrong idea.” Rachel says staring straight ahead. “He’s really cool though. You would probably like him.” Somehow Chloe doubts that but she forces a poker face anyways.

“Is it, like, serious or…”

Rachel laughs dryly. “No, it isn’t serious. I would have told you about him if it was.”

“You just don’t usually hook up with the same guy more than once so I thought—"

“Listen, with my track record he’ll probably be gone within the month. It’s no big deal.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Rachel is still asleep on Chloe’s shoulder when golden morning light finally filters into the truck. Her arm is all pins and needles but Rachel looks peaceful so she doesn’t dare move it yet. She watches Rachel’s nose wrinkle at some offense in her dream. Her chest feels hollow, even as the smoke of her cigarette fills it. Maybe it is possible to get by on the blue moons when Rachel is hers alone. But maybe it isn’t.

In the rearview mirror she watches Dana attempting to sneak out of Trevor’s tent and back into Juliet’s. She waits until Dana is safely out of sight before softly rubbing Rachel’s shoulders to wake her.


	5. Just make a mess of me, I’ll always clean it up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Get Bummed Out- Remember Sports
> 
> Small disclaimer: This chapter really sucked the life out of me for some reason. I've dealt with a few losses recently and some of the weird bleakness started leaking into the story. I did my best to mop it up but I apologize in advance for the general Bad Vibes of this chapter.

Chloe decided years ago that her life is divided into two distinct eras. The first contains Max, her father, and general happiness. The second contains Rachel, grieving, and all manner of debauchery. The line between them is firm and immobile. Well it _was_ anyways. The blurring of that line terrifies her for reasons she can’t articulate. It’s just easier to think in terms of past and present. The future is always fuzzy. In all honesty she isn’t convinced she has one.

Chloe runs her thumb over the phone in her pocket. Rachel is her usual way into the dorm but tonight needs to be hers alone. She can wait, it’s still early and there will be plenty of people coming back from dinner or the library that she could slip in with.

The brick walls of the Prescott dormitory loom ahead like a fortress or something warmer but equally impenetrable. A place that could have been her home if she hadn’t fucked it all up. Her teeth tear at her cuticles. It would be best to walk in with a plan but she’s struggling to find the words she needs. For five years she fantasized about what she would say to Max if they crossed paths. Sometimes it was pure vitriol, pent up anger at the betrayal, words meant to cut and sting. Other times it was a flood of despair, an aching to convey all the pain Max had left in her wake. Now she isn’t sure what she wants to say or what reaction to expect. In the darkest part of her mind an ugly possibility forms: Max seeing her for the fuck up she is and slamming the door in her face. Chloe tells herself it’s not a likely reaction, but she does have a habit of thinking almost exclusively in worst case scenarios.

She crushes the cherry of her cigarette under her boot. Rachel’s window is a beacon against the blue dusk. Her hideous green fan is taking up most of the view, but Chloe can just make out the collection of Playbills above her bed. What she wouldn’t give to be sprawled across that awful mattress right now, the broken spring digging into her shoulder and the crown of Rachel’s head tucked under her chin. Chloe wills herself to look away and kicks at the ground aimlessly. They crossed a line in the truck, some unspoken intimacy quota was overfilled and now they’re holding each other at a distance.

The bench is cold enough that she can feel it through her jeans and the tree next to it is growing yellow around its green edges. This time of year always reminds her of William, his absence more pronounced when nobody’s there to take her apple picking or ride the ferris wheel with her at the fair. Not that any of those things are still appealing to her, but even so…

She pulls her one hitter from under the brim of her beanie. The smoke chases thoughts of her father to the edge of her mind. Not gone, just hovering in the peripheral. She gnaws her cuticle too far and tastes blood.

“Hey!”

The clack of heeled shoes echo on the flagstone. Chloe fumbles with the pipe before hastily shoving it in her pocket. Dana rounds the corner followed by Juliet.

“Shit Dana! I thought you were a teacher or like, Victoria.”

“Ugh, please. That one has been in _rare_ form lately. You would have been able to feel her stressful aura from across the courtyard.”

“Yeah?” The mixed signals Victoria had been sending all summer still pop up in Chloe’s mind from time to time, but she’s long since abandoned her efforts to decipher them.

“We’ve been avoiding the dorms just to give her space. I had to _drag_ this one out of her favorite hidey hole in the library.” Dana says gesturing to Juliet who’s carrying her laptop in one hand and a large coffee in the other.

“I wasn’t _hiding_. I was in the middle of writing something for the Totem, thank you very much.” Juliet flashes Chloe a probing look. “On your way to see Rachel?”

“Uh, yeah. My phone is dead though so I can’t ask her to let me in."

Juliet’s gaze bounces from Chloe’s face to Rachel’s open window. She cocks an eyebrow but doesn’t voice her suspicion.

“Oh! Come on up, I have a key.” Dana says with a wink. Maybe Rachel had overestimated Juliet’s ability to keep her mouth shut.

Chloe follows them up the stairwell but breaks off towards the vending machines mumbling something about needing water. She waits until their doors click shut to shuffle out into the hall. Her heart is in her throat as she passes Rachel’s room, muffled music bleeding under the door, moody and synth heavy. Across the hall, Max’s whiteboard is blank except for a small drawing of a rabbit. Before she can over-think it, her knuckles are hitting the door.

It swings open after the second knock, and it dawns on her that she isn’t prepared at all. Chloe’s mouth goes dry the instant she sees her, hair still wet from the shower, brow furrowed in confusion. There’s a moment, before Max’s eyes light in surprise, where Chloe worries that she knocked on the wrong door. The girl in front of her looks familiar and strange all at once.

“Chloe?” The question is hopeful, a wish too fragile to be spoken aloud.

“Uh… Hey.” Is all Chloe can manage. Her tongue feels unwieldy.

The corner of Max’s mouth twitches down like she might laugh.

A weak “How?” is all she manages to squeak out, eyebrows raised so high they’ve all but disappeared into her bangs. Under normal circumstances Max’s shock would be amusing and rather cute, but Chloe is finding her difficult to read. Some surprises are good while others are about as welcome as a porcupine in a balloon shop, as Joyce would say. Chloe really doesn’t want to be the porcupine.

“Um, can I come in?”

“Oh! Of course, sorry!” Max blushes and steps aside ushering her in.

Her room is cozy. A string of paper lanterns and photos hang above her bed, the remaining walls scattered with band posters and watercolor illustrations. Max sits on the edge of the bed, scooting to the end so Chloe has room. The love-worn teddy bear she’s had since she was six is perched near her pillow. It’s odd, the things that remain the same when everything else changes. Chloe picks up the bear and pulls it tight against her stomach, something familiar to anchor her.

“so…” Max chews her lip, “how did you know I was here?”

“Rachel told me. I’ve known since the first day of school, I just dragged my feet getting here.”

“Wait, you know Rachel?” Max cocks her head.

“You could say that.”

Chloe hopes Max misses the tension in her voice. Right now, Rachel is one more thing Chloe doesn’t have a good explanation for. Not to mention it’s only a matter of time before Max hears something about them from her classmates.

“She’s been a good friend.”

“Yeah, she has a way of crashing into people’s lives at the right time.”

Max nods looking pensive. She’s quieter than Chloe remembers, almost somber. Chloe scuffs the toe of her boot across the floor. For once she doesn’t want to be the first one to break the silence.

“Chloe, I don’t have an excuse. What I did was—I just didn’t know what to say. I was so far away and so lonely.” Max’s voice sounds close to breaking.

“It’s okay Max.”

It isn’t okay, not just yet anyway. The resentment is still there, settling along the bottom of Chloe’s gut like pulp in a glass of orange juice, but Max’s presence softens things. Especially right now when she’s wearing flannel pajamas and smelling like lavender and sleepytime tea.

“I used to dream about taking a bus from Seattle to your house and when I would get there you would just slam the door right in my face. I would wake up and want to text or call but I’d chicken out.”

Chloe barks out a laugh and the edges of Max’s ears go red.

“Sorry, it’s just that this time last year I might have actually done that.”

Max nods like that treatment would have been acceptable and Chloe’s heart sinks. As hurt as she is, the desire to protect Max from her own bitterness is overwhelming.

“What changed?”

“I did, I guess. I grew the fuck up and realized that we were both just kids trying to navigate something way too heavy for us to really understand. Also… I just really missed you.” She shrugs and looks away.

Max pushes her fingers across the comforter and laces them through Chloe’s, a faint smile on her lips.

“I really missed you too Chloe.”

The room is quiet aside from the whir of Max’s laptop. Chloe cradles the teddy bear and Max stares out the window, still connected at the hands. Just five years ago the silence might have been comfortable, but now Chloe feels a desperation to fill it, still unsure of their rhythm.

“So, uh, how was Seattle?”

“It was amazing but I was a bit out of my depth. It took me a long time to get used to being in a city that big and now coming back here… I’m still trying to readjust.”

“Ha! Good luck. This place is changing so fast lately, even I can’t get my footing,” Chloe tilts her chin up and gives Max a cocky grin, “and I’m a _local._ ”

“What! Did I lose my local status that quickly?”

“Unfortunately. There was a huge meeting down in town center. Big debate, blood was shed. I fiercely advocated for your reinstatement but alas my charm has limits.”

“Impossible!” Max giggles, shoulders finally loose and relaxed. “So how can I earn my Arcadia Bay street cred back?”

“Well, you have half a decade of hellraising to make up for. Don’t worry about that, Rachel and I can help you condense that into about a month, give or take. Maybe renew your library card too, just to be safe.”

Max laughs, a true belly laugh, and it warms Chloe all the way through her fingertips.  

“So how well do you know Rachel anyway?”

The grin slips off Chloe’s mouth.

“Pretty well. We met after you left. After my dad... I was spiraling and she swooped in. She saved me.”

Max nods. There’s a spark in her eye, something that makes Chloe wonder if she’s already revealed too much.

“She’s going to be really happy I finally came to see you; she’s been dying for the three of us to hang out.”

“I would really like that.” Max says, eyes lighting up and crinkling at the corners.

They talk about the friends Max made back in Seattle and her photography ventures. She also makes Chloe listen to folky hipster music that isn’t entirely awful. It’s nice to hear her voice from across the room instead of through the tape recorder. It’s not quite like old times but it’s easier than Chloe expects and that isn’t half bad for now.

With a promise to text tomorrow she says goodnight to Max and carefully closes the door. The hall is silent and dimly lit. It’s easier to avoid the squeaky spots by walking close to the walls, so she does, nearly flattening herself against the plaster. Her hand is on the door to the stairwell when a low whistle rings out in the hall behind her. Chloe whips around to see Rachel silhouetted against the fairy-light glow of her doorway. Caught, she sheepishly follows her into the room.

“How do you always seem to know everything that happens in this school? I feel like I’m friends with Gossip Girl or Nancy Drew.”

“Hmm I didn’t realize I had such impressive range. Unfortunately, I’m not a lonely boy posing as a socialite or a teen detective.” Rachel says flopping onto the bed with a sigh. “I just heard your loud ass boots.”

“Damn these loud ass boots.” Chloe says kicking them off, socks sliding on the shitty parquet floor.

She shimmies into the space between Rachel and the wall. It feels safer this way: back pressed against something solid, chest to chest with Rachel. Powerful, resilient, ferocious Rachel. The hazel eyes staring back at her look different tonight. Not empty per se but glazed over, lost. Chloe reaches out and strokes her cheek. _Come back to me_. The distance she’s been carefully putting between them in the week since the camping trip feels wrong now. It feels negligent.

“So, how did it go?” Rachel asks, propping her head up with her elbow.

“It was… good actually. I think maybe we should hang out, the three of us.”

“The three of us.” Rachel repeats dreamily. She blinks, eyes moving slow and out of focus, but keeps staring into Chloe’s eyes. Those new sleeping pills must be strong.

“Are you tired angel?” Chloe says in a low voice, digging into that late-night rasp she knows Rachel likes.

Rachel nods and moves closer. She leans in until her torso is crushing Chloe into the wall, lips centimeters away. Chloe shifts to close the gap only to find Rachel’s arm reaching up over her head, fingers dragging across the wall until she can hear them fumbling with a switch. Then the fairy-lights cut off with a click and Rachel’s receding again, leaving Chloe alone on her side of the bed.

The first thing Chloe notices when she wakes up is that she can’t move. This realization is followed by a sharp pain in her neck when she attempts to turn her head. In the soft morning light, she can just make out the flowers on the comforter, faded reds and yellows sprayed across a dark green background. She groans as she tries and fails to sit up, head bouncing off the wall.

“Morning crack-dweller.” Rachel sounds cheery and well-rested at least.

The mattress is yanked away from her chest and she she’s released. Chloe sits up cautiously, arms and legs still buzzing with pins and needles. Her neck cracks painfully when she turns towards Rachel. Today will be just fine so long as she nothing requires her to look left.

“Ow.”

“Mhm, humans aren’t meant to sleep like lizards.” Rachel is already dressed, with coffee in hand. She places the steaming cup on her bedside table and swings her messenger bag over a shoulder. “I got you your favorite, double shot in the dark with extra sugar, though I’m sure I could find some Adderall for you to snort if you want something healthier.”

“Thanks,” Chloe croaks out, reaching for the cup. “Speaking of drugs, what were you on last night?”

“Just something for sleep, don’t sound so suspicious.” Rachel looks at her through the mirror. She swipes pink gloss over her lips and blows her a kiss. “I’m headed to the library with Max. We should all meet up after class though. I'll text you when we're out?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

After she leaves Chloe takes her time sipping coffee and staring out the window, waiting until she sees them: Max guided by Rachel’s protective arm, trudging through the leaves as they cross the quad. Only once they’re out of sight does Chloe make a break for the truck.

***

They gather at the beach around the corpse of a washed-up tree. Sliding numb palms and rubber soles across the trunk, they settle in to watch the sun begin its slow decent through the clouds. The breeze rushing in over bay stirs the already chill air around them and Chloe shivers wishing she had brought a thicker jacket.

“I have a treat for everyone. To commemorate the establishment of what I’m sure is going to be a long and prosperous friendship.” Rachel says, pulling a bottle of inky liquid with an illegible label from her messenger bag.

Chloe laughs at the reveal while Max looks at her confused. Sometimes the theatrics are warranted and this is one of those times. Rachel takes a swig before passing it to Max who eyes it suspiciously but takes a polite sip anyway.

“Ugh! That’s so sweet, it’s making my jaw hurt.” Max hands it to Chloe.

It’s syrupy as always and somehow warmer than the air around them. Yes, it’s disgusting, but it’s also a tradition to keep pretending it isn’t, and that’s really most of the charm.

“That’s the finest blackberry liqueur in Arcadia Bay. A rare treat crafted by old Mr. Jacobs himself.” Chloe says passing it back to Rachel.

Rachel nods and runs her tongue over her purple stained lips. “He gives me a bottle or two when I come to collect his donation for the school raffle. He always gives us a lovely wine basket, real patron of the arts.”

“Rachel gets whatever she wants because she’s the town harlot.” Chloe stage whispers to Max.

“Don’t listen to her Max, she drinks.” Rachel says, swishing the bottle around for emphasis.

They talk until the light shifts and the bay becomes dark and glassy. Chloe looks over at Max, her is nose scrunching as she laughs at one of Rachel’s jokes. Still waters run deep in Max. It had been difficult for Chloe to imagine her with Rachel, all bright lights and suffocating phosphorus smoke. Yet they’re laughing and getting along with no snags or awkwardness. They seem to balance each other, Rachel calmer and more deliberate than usual and Max looser and less self-conscious.

The clouds part and the light changes, honeyed and thick as if she’s seeing through a memory. Nostalgia hits her like waves against the cliff-face miles down the beach. Tomorrow marks five years without her dad. She’s still reminded of him in small ways everyday: a whiff of his old clothes when she opens her dresser, a glimpse of the half-finished siding every time she leaves the house, catching the tail-end of a song he used to sing while flipping radio stations. Getting used to those small wounds was easy enough, a necessary part of keeping herself alive for the last five years. But right now, she misses him in a way that’s so fresh it almost winds her. She hugs her flannel closer and feels her throat go raw when she remembers that it was his as well.

Rachel stands up and squeezes her shoulder subtly as she passes. Chloe turns her head, letting her lips graze Rachel’s forearm. It’s a throw-away gesture, the kind she never even thinks about when they’re alone or at a party surrounded by people too drunk to notice. She glances at Max who is kind enough to look away and pretend she didn’t see it. _Shit._

With a flick of her wrist Rachel sends a stone bouncing across the surface of the water three times before it disappears.

“Wow! Three in a row, that’s pretty good.” Max sounds genuinely impressed.

Chloe half expects Rachel to snort at that. Her average hovers around five but getting seven or eight in a row isn’t unusual for her. Instead she seems to glow under Max’s praise.

“Thank you. I can teach you if you want.”  

“Actually, can I get a shot of you doing that?”

“Of course.” Rachel says with a wink that appears to send a blush through Max’s cheeks, although it’s hard to tell in the sepia glow of sunset.

Max shifts from her spot on the log, sunlight catching the lens of her camera before it flashes and spits out an unformed image. She flaps the photo absently and Chloe watches colors bloom across the white square. Rachel and Chloe ooh and ahh over the image until Max dismisses them with a bashful wave of her hand. All that time away and she still can’t take a compliment.

The girls walk up the long hill to Main Street, stopping periodically when Max wants to take a photo or Chloe needs to hold still to light a cigarette. By the time they get into town it’s already dark, a sliver of moon and orange-pink lamplight guiding them. They’re in front of the Two Whales when Rachel’s phone rings.

“You guys go sit down. I’ll only be a minute.”

Chloe shrugs and leads Max inside, heading straight back to her usual booth. Joyce’s shriek stops them just as they’re about to sit.

“Max Caufield? I don’t believe it!”

Joyce descends on them and gathers Max into a hug that looks like it might dislocate a shoulder.

Chloe rolls her eyes and settles into the booth. Joyce is cooing over Max and talking too fast to keep the southern drawl from overpowering her words. Her dad used to call it honkey-tonk-talk. Luckily Max has a lifetime of experience and can keep up fairly well. Chloe, however, drowns it out. Instead she watches Rachel through the window, pacing in a pool of lamplight and laughing into her phone. Chloe pushes her knuckles into her thigh and fights to keep her eyes on the cheap tabletop.

“Are you okay Chloe?” Max asks once Joyce has disappeared through the kitchen doors to fetch their coffee, leaving her cheeks covered in lipstick smooches. 

“Yeah. Life’s a bowl of cherries.”

Max knits her brow but doesn’t push her. The bells over the door jingle announcing Rachel’s arrival.

“Sorry about that, one of my many suitors.” Rachel says settling in across from Max.

“I’m gonna go smoke, you guys go ahead and order. I’m not hungry.”

“Chloe you smoked, like, half a pack on the way here.” Max says with concern and maybe the slightest bit of disgust. She always did hate the smell.

Rachel reaches out to touch her arm but Chloe pulls away.

“I’ll be back in five.”

The cold air feels harsher against her skin now. Leaves scuttle down the sidewalk and she doesn’t even have the urge to stomp them under her boot, which she figures is probably an indication that she’s beyond repair. She wanders over to the lamppost Rachel had been pacing under and lights a cigarette.

The window of the diner looks like a television, Max and Rachel perfectly framed in the glass rectangle. Rachel is talking, moving her hands and looking especially animated. Max is watching her, smiling and nodding, but still looking troubled. She throws a glance out the window, frowning when she spots Chloe. The expression is too small and brief for Rachel to notice but Chloe holds onto it. The same look they would give each other when one of them was getting a lecture for breaking a window or staining the carpet. _I’m still on your side_ , it says.

Chloe knows she’s being pathetic. She _should_ be inside. She _should_ be pestering Rachel for details about this mysterious paramour. She _should_ be excited about him. Or the idea of him anyways. That’s what Dana or Juliet or any of Rachel’s normal friends would do. At the very least she should be happy that everyone is getting along and all is finally right in the world.

The wind changes and ash blows into her eyes. Rachel taps the glass with her index finger and curls it towards her in a “come-hither” motion. Chloe holds up her cigarette, which is nearly down to the filter anyway, and stubs it out on the side of the lamppost for Rachel to see. She’s rewarded with a wink and lips pressed against the glass.

***

It’s a Saturday and Rachel has been called away to attend to some Vortex club emergency, leaving Max and Chloe on their own. What’s supposed to be a quick detour for Chloe to grab her jacket, turns into spending the entire morning in her room. Chloe can’t imagine anything being less impressive than her shitty bedroom but Max looks like an anthropologist studying the remains of a lost civilization. She leans in close to read the sharpie graffiti on the walls. She runs a careful hand over the CD collection next to the stereo. She plucks a photo of Rachel off the desk and a crease appears through her bangs.

“Maybe if you told me what’s actually going on, I could help.”

“What are you talking about?” Chloe scoffs but buries her nose further into the issue of Thrasher she’s been thumbing through.

“Last night with Rachel. You got upset when she was talking to Jake.”

“Jake?” Chloe slides the magazine aside and props herself up on her elbows.

“That guy she’s been… hanging out with.”

“Oh, her flavor of the month.” Chloe scoffs and rolls over, dragging her ashtray closer to the bed. “Yeah that’s not really an issue. Or it won’t be for long. It’s complicated Mad Max, nothing to worry about though.”

Chloe offers the joint to Max out of habit, getting a wrinkled nose and polite head shake in return. She shrugs and starts fumbling around for her lighter.

“I grew up too, you know.” Max says firmly. Her tone is enough to get Chloe to forget about the lighter for the time being. “Whatever is going on I can handle it. If you don’t trust me yet I understand and I’ll back off, but-”

“I trust you.”

Chloe tucks the joint behind her ear and sits up. Behind the freckles and doe eyes there’s something that wasn’t there five years ago. A shadow of whatever she must have felt when she watched Arcadia Bay shrink to nothing from the backseat of her parent’s sedan. Something that mirrors Chloe’s own pain.

“Then why is it so hard to talk to me?”

“It’s not hard Max. It’s actually really easy. The hard part is keeping everything from spilling out like… like toxic slime.” Chloe groans and buries her head in her palms, rubbing her eyes until they hurt. “I want to be normal around you but whenever I try to keep all my negative bullshit contained, it just builds up and starts oozing out all over the place. I don’t know how to fix it.”

Chloe realizes that she’s started pacing but can’t recall when. Max takes her place on the bed, eyes warm and empathetic. She would make an excellent therapist, Chloe thinks, or perhaps a scientist. She can almost see it, Max dressed in one of those neon orange wet suits, puzzling over a particularly hopeless whale that keeps beaching itself.

“Chloe you’re not supposed to keep all of what your feeling inside. That’s like, the total opposite of fixing it.”

Chloe laughs darkly and settles onto the edge of her desk. There’s a muddy boot-print on the windowsill from god knows when. She runs her finger over the ridges but doesn’t brush it off. It’s hard to look at Max right now, her eyes hold a quiet sort of intensity, like she can see straight to the marrow in Chloe’s bones.

“Okay well here’s something.” Chloe swallows and fixes her eyes on Max’s shoe, anywhere but her face. “Sometimes… I think losing you was harder than losing him.”

Risking a glance, Chloe watches Max’s face freeze for a moment before collapsing in on itself, lip quivering and eyes spilling over in an instant. Chloe rushes to her, hugging her so tight she can’t tell which of them is shaking. When she pulls away Max is red splotched and puffy, mumbling a waterlogged apology.

“It’s okay." Chloe pats her head awkwardly. "You look awful, must be allergies. Pollen count is up or whatever.” It's a stupid joke, but she'll try anything to pull Max back out of her head.

Max fights her grin before a giggle breaks through. Relieved, Chloe exhales a chuckle.

“So… about Rachel?” Max looks cautious, worrying her bottom lip again.

“Oh, that. She’s my best friend. Aside from you obviously-”

“Obviously.” Max offers a reassuring smile.

“And uh… Sometimes we have sex.”

“Like… together? With each other?” Max is making a heroic effort to look casual and unmoved by the information, but failing miserably.

“Yeah. But it’s only casual of course.”

“Of course.” Max agrees with a little shrug.

“Do you think I’m weird and gay?”

“Yes. But those are too separate thoughts with no relation to each other.” She looks relieved when Chloe laughs. “I’m just worried you’re going to get hurt.”

Chloe smirks and ruffles Max’s hair, pulling away before she has the chance to swat her hand. “That’s very sweet, but sometimes sex is just sex.”

It’s not a lie really, sex is pretty meaningless with everyone else. Everyone who isn’t Rachel. But Max doesn’t need to know all the gory details just yet.

***

After dropping Max off in front of the dorms Chloe turns down the poorly paved road that runs alongside the train tracks. Fields turn to woods and she slows down once the sign for American Rust comes into view. She backs the truck in next to an old school bus with a shattered windshield.

William’s station wagon is still exactly where they dropped it after hauling it off the side of route 101. The paint is beginning to wear through, even in places that aren’t folded in like an accordion. She pulls a white candle out of her pocket. It’s made of fancy organic beeswax, the kind that costs $14.50 unless Steph pretends to be oblivious when you steal it. She sets it on the hood of the car.

Joyce would probably stop by his grave tonight on her break. Chloe always hated that graveyard. The idea of things buried, silent and forgotten, gives her a feeling like cold water down her spine. The twisted wreck of the car, the last place he was alive, feels more appropriate. She lights the candle and sits on the ground in front of the car.

The sound of tires cuts through the quiet, but Chloe doesn’t bother looking up. A car door closes, crunching footsteps join the sounds of the birds and the endless shuffling of dry leaves blowing around. Rachel sits beside her, laying her head on her shoulder. They sit and watch the candle melt lower until Chloe starts getting restless.

“Are you ready?” Rachel asks, voice hovering just above a whisper.

“Yeah.”

She slides Chloe a wooden baseball bat and moves to sit on an old oil drum. The candle flickers in the afternoon breeze, flame growing taller as liquid wax spills onto the hood. Chloe eyes the dozens of bottles set up in rows on an old metal beam. There are at least twice as many as there were last year. Rachel must have lied about the Vortex club meeting so she could set them all up.

Chloe aims the bat, pulls back and swings. The glass shatters and the sun glints of the shards. Rachel’s eyes follow her down the line. Aim, pull back, release. Chloe finds herself laughing, humorless hysterical laughter, as one by one they explode against the wood. When all of them are reduced to fragments in the dirt she drops the bat and returns to Rachel.

“Do you have anything?” It’s vague but Rachel knows what she’s after. Weed, alcohol, pills- anything.

 “Hmm.” Rachel looks over at the station wagon thoughtfully. “No. I think you need to be present for this.”

“For fucks sake Rachel. It’s not something I _want_ to be present for. It _hurts._ ” Chloe whines. “It still fucking _hurts_ , all the time.”

“It’s supposed to.”

“Why?” Chloe bites her cheek to keep her eyes from welling up. If she’s going to sound like a petulant child, not melting into a blubbering mess could be the thing that preserves her dignity.

Rachel shrugs. “That’s just what loving someone is.”

Chloe is grateful for the empty junkyard, for Rachel’s soft fingers wiping away the tears she can’t quite manage to stop. She’s grateful Max isn’t here to watch her break, knees weak and breath frayed, to see the desperation in her eyes when she watches Rachel blow out the candle and scrape the wax off the hood.

Mourning can be graceful, honorable even, but pining is an agonizing and wretched thing to witness. So, tucked away between mountains of Arcadia Bay’s oddments with nobody watching but the birds and a girl who has already seen the ugly facets of her grief, she does both.

 

 


	6. I Don't Think We're the Same

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of all over the place but basically everyone is irritated and trying to pretend they aren't. It serves as a good bridge to the next chapter which is a lot heavier and has taken me months to write. It's also the first and probably the last time ill use Max's perspective. I mostly did it for fun but it turns out her personality is pretty hard to capture outside the context of the games events.

Arcadia Bay flickers between being home and uncharted territory with alarming regularity now. One moment Max is looking up at the lighthouse drowning in nostalgia and the next she’s biting the end of her pencil looking around at her classmates, heads bent over their essays, and feeling like she’s been dropped into someone else’s life. Right when she thinks those feelings of otherness and inadequacy will overwhelm her, Chloe comes bounding up to her through the crowded courtyard or Rachel walks into her room and sprawls across her rug like she lives there, and Max feels that warm glow building around her again.

“This place is giving me whiplash.” She confesses to Kristen and Fernando over Skype one quiet Friday night.

Both of them are sitting on Kristen’s bed eating popcorn and filling Max in on all the Seattle drama she’s been missing. Max would never tell them but she can hardly remember the last time Seattle crossed her mind. Maybe a few weeks ago, before her reunion with Chloe.

“Is it the town or the people?” Fernando asks through a mouthful of popcorn.

“Maybe both.” Kristen suggests.

“Maybe.” Max sighs.

There’s a shriek in the hall, doors slamming, giggling, another shriek, and finally a sharp knock at Max’s door. She quickly says goodbye to her friends before closing the laptop.

“Uh, come in?”

The door opens before the words are fully out of her mouth and Dana and Rachel bounce into the room like drunk pinballs. Dana trips over the edge of her rug and nearly dives head-first into the couch. Rachel, stumbling around Dana’s windmilling limbs, makes it to the bed. Max winces as Rachel crashes into it with enough force to send her pillows bouncing onto the floor.

“Max why aren’t you dressed?” Dana asks, voice slurring subtly. “Here, have some of this.” Without waiting for a response to her question she tosses a water bottle full of clear liquid onto the bed.

Max shrugs and politely hands the water bottle off to Rachel. “I wasn’t planning on going actually.”

The fall festival is an event she remembers well from childhood. The smell of funnel cakes and dusty hay bales lining main street, children in ill-fitting costumes running everywhere, string lights and jack-o-lanterns casting an amber glow over everything. With her mind teetering unpredictably between nostalgia and melancholy, the festival is a gamble. If she becomes withdrawn or awkward, they might regret bringing her in the first place.

Rachel clasps Max’s hands in her own, “Pleaseee Max?” She has a talent for begging and the ability to make an expression somewhere between a pout and a smile. “If it’s boring, we can come right back.”

Rachel’s kind half smile makes it clear that boring is code for overwhelming. Even drunk, she is more perceptive than most.

“Uh, well maybe…”

“Plus, Chloe said she would try to swing by after her shift!”

“Really?” It sounds like the kind of event that this new version of Chloe would avoid at all costs. Too family-friendly, too many memories.

“She’ll totally be there if you are.” Rachel says confidently, not even a hint of jealousy. It makes Max feel guilty about her own envy of Chloe’s new friendships. “Want to raid my closet for an outfit?”

Rachel’s closet is like a freeze frame of an explosion, fabric bursting through the open doors (doors that never close because of the sheer volume of material within) and spilling out onto the small loveseat next to it. Rachel affectionately refers to the loveseat as Laundry Couch and offers to move things around so that Max can sit.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m fine here.”

Rachel shrugs and begins digging, flinging scarves and blouses with wild abandon. Dana brushes past the chaotic flurry of clothing, to the bed and makes herself comfortable. Max perches awkwardly on the edge, most of her weight still over her feet in case the girls come to their senses and decide to go without her.

“Ugh, I don’t even wear half of this anymore.”

“It’s probably because you’re always stealing Chloe’s clothes.” Dana says it casually but darts a pointed look at Rachel.

“She steals from me too sometimes, it’s mutual… Ah!” Rachel stops rummaging and struggles to pull an item free from the depths. “Okay try this on.” Rachel holds up an overall dress made of rust colored corduroy. “Don’t give me that face just yet Mad Max. You have to at least try it on if you want to look scandalized. Put it on over this.” Rachel says tossing a black sweater in her direction.

Max freezes, unsure if she should change here in the middle of the room or skip across the hall for the privacy of her own dorm. She’s more than a little self-conscious and though Rachel and Dana aren’t overly judgmental, they are intimidatingly attractive. Inexplicably a memory intrudes: Joyce helping her change clothes after she’d tripped and skidded torso-first into a slick patch of mud at the park. _We’re all girls here, it’s nothin we ain’t already seen._

Rachel and Dana hardly bat an eye as she kicks off her jeans, neatly folding them along with her shirt. The sweater is warm enough, good material and not scratchy, and the dress fits well. Turning in the mirror she’s surprised at how much she likes the look, more art school chic than the kindergarten-picture-day effect she was expecting.

“Well shit.” Rachel grins wolfishly and gives her a once over. “That looks way better on you than it does on me.”

Max can’t imagine that being true, Rachel’s curves likely fill the dress out better, but she blushes and thanks her for the compliment anyway.

Dana and Rachel busy themselves with their makeup, sliding endless pallets and compacts and bottles across the desk-turned-vanity. She watches Dana carefully apply rouge to the apples of her cheeks and Rachel paint on her signature cat eye with surgical precision. It’s all very interesting for someone who can hardly remember to swipe on Carmex when her lips are chapped. There’s a kind of comfort in this ritual, primitive and caring, like animals grooming each other.

“Max do you want me to do your makeup?” Rachel asks, brandishing a tube of mascara.

It feels like an initiation, or an invitation for one anyway. _We hereby welcome you to female friendships as defined by Teen Vogue, such a shame you’re late, make sure to read the welcome packet._ It’s not at all what Max had expected, the nuances of hair and makeup and gossip are so much more complex than the critics of teen femininity (men, usually, and old ones at that) give them credit for. Though frills and lace and lipstick are not Max’s preference, she’s gripped by a sudden overpowering desire to try it out for an evening, especially with Rachel’s guidance.

“Yes.” Max says hoping her grin doesn’t betray the butterflies in her stomach.

Rachel and Dana fuss over her while the light outside dims and the streetlights wink on, Max sitting still as a doll except when one of them gently angles her chin every which way. They drink wine that Rachel had stashed in her closet the first week of school, Max allowing herself a modest glass after some good-natured cajoling from Dana. It isn’t long before Max finds herself giggling along with them and feeling lighter than she has since first arriving at Blackwell.

Dana heaves a dramatic sigh and tosses her phone across the bed. “Ugh Juliet isn’t coming. She’s still working on that article. She needs to learn how to take breaks, for her sanity and mine.”

Max is about to say something vaguely sympathetic when someone shrieks in the hall. This shriek is decidedly more panicked than the playful ruckus Dana and Rachel had been making earlier. The three girls exchange worried glances before filing out into the hall, Rachel in the lead. Max hears Victoria before she sees her.

“I swear, if I knew there was going to be a fucking rodent next door, I would have insisted on a different room.”

Victoria is standing with arms crossed, staring down at Kate Marsh who looks like she may evaporate under the ferocity of her glare. In Kate’s arms a small white rabbit is trying to burrow into the large front pocket of her hoodie. Max feels her heart drop, Kate is quiet and kind and entirely undeserving of whatever cruelty Victoria is cooking up.

“That _thing_ is going to wind up crawling through an air duct and chewing up all my clothes.”

“Alice is really clean, and I would never let her roam around when I’m not there,” Kate says meekly, “she could get hurt.”

“You’re right she _could._ ”

Max is about to say something, anything, to pull that serpentine gaze off of Kate, when suddenly Rachel steps forward. She regards Victoria as a teacher would a particularly rude child, arms crossed patiently, eyebrow cocked. Her movement attracts Victoria’s attention giving Max an opportunity to hurry across the hall to stand by Kate. The gesture is mostly empty, Max isn’t sure what to do once she’s there, but Kate gives her a weak tight-lipped smile of thanks none the less.

“Hey V, relax. It’s a pet rabbit, not a rabid raccoon. It would take one look at all the furs in your closet and haul ass outta there.” Rachel drawls, voice a little loose from the wine and whatever is in Dana’s water bottle. “You’re one puppy coat away from being Cruella Deville.”

“My furs are all vintage, I didn’t kill anything.” Victoria defends weakly, seemingly caught off guard by Rachel’s relaxed, almost playful demeanor.

“I never said you did.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Victoria says through gritted teeth, “but the _implication_ is—"

“Oops! Look at the time.” Rachel interrupts coolly, “Sorry V, we’ll catch up with you later. Kate, why don’t you come with us?”

***

The street looks almost exactly the same as it did in Max’s memories. Everything is flame orange and smelling of burnt sugar and apple spice. Red and gold pennant banners zig-zag above Main Street, fluttering in the breeze. The most glaring difference is that the jack-o-lanterns are less haphazard now, startlingly accurate faces and even scenes from movies or shows cut with surgical precision, she supposes because stencils and rotary carvers and the like are more popular. She had always been stuck using ineffectual paring knives and the occasional dull serrated knife. There had been more variety before the incident where Chloe had gotten too carried away with a bowie knife she found in the garage and nearly impaled herself, after which their fathers insisted on cutting the larger shapes themselves.

Rachel and Dana lead the way, waving hellos and blowing kisses at passersby, but making sure to still include Max and Kate in their conversation. To Max’s surprise, Kate appears relaxed and happy, apparently recovered from Victoria’s confrontation, chatting with Rachel about musicals and stopping to buy them all flavored honey-sticks. Kate’s mood has a soothing effect on Max as well and she feels herself loosening, her previous anxiety about appearing dorky (or worse, needy) all but dissolving. The “bonfire” in town center is just a large steel fire pit with a laser-cut star pattern that looks like it was purchased at a garden center but it’s cozy all the same. They stop by a little table where a boy-scout is selling smores supplies for a dollar.

“Do you want to make one?” Dana asks, pulling a sparkly wallet out of her purse.

“Ooh yes!” Kate says, eyes lighting up. Other than their occasional tea-dates Max hasn’t hung out with Kate very often and seeing her so cheery and carefree makes her heart swell.

Kate and Dana walk over to the boy-scout who is staring moon-eyed at Rachel who doesn’t seem to notice.

“Hey Max, come here.” Rachel says jerking her head towards a pair of empty folding chairs further away from the fire and townsfolk milling about it.

“I just want to check in, how are you feeling?” The question is earnest and somehow the show of compassion isn’t undermined by the smell of liquor on her.

“I’m having fun.” Max assures her with an easy smile. “Thanks for inviting Kate, and for standing up for her.”

“It’s no big deal really. Everyone’s so afraid of Victoria but her bitchy attitude is just a front.”

“Still,” scared animals are often more dangerous than confident ones, Max thinks, “Victoria has been really bad lately and I think Kate gets overwhelmed by it. I know she appreciates this.”

Rachel shrugs and looks over at Kate and Dana, roasting marshmallows and giggling. “It’s nice fixing something instead of fucking it up for once.”

Max cocks her head in confusion involuntarily but Rachel doesn’t seem to notice. Realistically Rachel is flawed but even so it’s hard to imagine her outright ruining anything. The realization is just dawning on Max when, with almost comedic timing, Chloe appears across the town green, wading through a small herd of children with faces painted like scarecrows and butterfly wings.

“Which one of you is going to buy me one of Mrs. Zablocki’s apple pies?” She appears to be in a good mood, eyes glinting devilishly, toothy grin lifting her cheeks. Her hair is a darker shade of blue than usual, looking almost inky black in the low light. The contrast adds a sharpness to her features that, though attractive in a vulpine kind of way, makes Max nervous. “How many free rides have I given you both? I’m coming to collect.”

Max catches the way Chloe scans the length of Rachel’s body, lingering on her hips with eyes as hopeful as the marshmallow selling boy-scout. It’s tragically sweet and Max finds herself wishing, like Rachel, for the ability to mend things outside her control. She puts it out of her mind and waves at Chloe who rolls her eyes at the gesture and instead tackles her in an enthusiastic hug. After effectively squeezing the breath from Max’s lungs, Chloe pulls away with a grin and looks between her and Rachel expectantly.

“Are you going to say hello or ask us about our days or compliment Max’s outfit?” Rachel prompts, gesturing at Max like Vanna White.

“Yes! Hello, how was your day? Good hopefully. Max, you look wonderful. Really, truly, I mean it I just,” Chloe points to the long, orange draped table covered in dozens of pies, “priorities, you know? Apple sells out first.”

Rachel heaves a sigh but reaches for her wallet anyways. “Fine, but you have to share. Max, pie preferences?”

“Pear if they have it.” She still remembers Mrs. Zablocki’s pear pie from childhood, maple glazed nuts and a crisp golden crust.

“Impeccable taste Max.” Rachel says nodding approvingly.

When Dana and Kate return from the fire pit, sticky fingered and giggly, the five of them settle into the grass under a gnarled maple tree. They eat the pies straight from the tin with plastic forks and drink cider from paper cups until everyone is too full and sleepy to carry a proper conversation. They watch the children dart around followed by dull-eyed parents overburdened by diaper bags and boxes of sweets. The moon creeping ever higher in the sky serves as a grim reminder of the time and the long walk back to school, which never seemed so long on the way into town. Chloe would probably offer them a ride but with the single bench seat it would be difficult to fit all of them, even if they sat on each other’s laps.

Kate stands up first, thanking everyone in excess and shaking her head politely at Chloe’s offer to drive her back (“Don’t be silly, they keep the busses running late tonight.”) until Chloe threatens to kidnap her. Kate laughs at the threat but Max and Rachel exchange a look, knowing that with Chloe there is a distinct likelihood that she will do it. Dana interjects that Juliet is offering to take them all back to campus since she is apparently coming to pick up a wreath from one of the innumerable craft tables for her mother. Kate agrees to this arrangement after confirming several times over that it isn’t an imposition.

When Juliet finally arrives, wreath in hand, she looks utterly exhausted. Her hair is falling out of the hasty bun it’s tied in and blue ink is smudged over the bridge of her nose. It all looks rather dignified and scholarly Max thinks. She collects Dana and Kate after a brief conversation with the group and they disappear after round a cluster of cones marking the street inaccessible for the weekend.

“And then there were three.” Chloe says stretching and stifling a tremendous yawn.

“Stop yawning Chlo, you’re making me—" the rest is lost to Rachel’s own yawn, eyes looking damp and puffy afterwards.

“Can’t help it, I didn’t sleep well last night. I kept dreaming I was stuck at a bus stop in the middle of nowhere. Everything was dark except for the streetlamp and there was this huge moth circling which would have been fine except it had a human face.”

“Hmmm.” Rachel tilts her head, bemused. “I didn’t bring my dream interpretation book but I think it might mean you’re going insane.”

“Please, like it’s any weirder than your stupid autopsy dream.”

Rachel send a lazy slap across Chloe’s thigh. “That wasn’t stupid, it was terrifying. I was _dead_ Chloe, I couldn’t move. I had to watch them flay my chest like I was a salmon they were deboning. By comparison a little moth—”

“With a human face! Little brown eyes _watching_ me.”

Rachel and Chloe are so absorbed in their back and forth they don’t seem to notice a man approaching. His eyes are glued to Rachel which is a common enough occurrence that Max almost disregards him until she feels Rachel stiffen beside her.

“Jake?”

“Hello, you look stunning as usual.”

He’s very handsome, swarthy and well-sculpted with friendly eyes that crinkle when he smiles. Max has seen some of the guys Rachel has hooked up with in the past and is pleasantly surprised. Rachel scrambles to get up but pauses halfway, jamming her palm into the bridge of her nose.

“Rach are you—”

Rachel waves away his hands and rocks forward, straightening herself out.

“S’okay, just a headrush. I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

Max risks a glance at Chloe who is sitting cross-legged now and glaring bitterly up at Rachel. _Keep it together Chloe._ Max worries her bottom lip between her teeth and scoots closer to Chloe who doesn’t appear to notice anything other than Jakes hand on Rachel’s waist.

“My sister’s girl-scout troop has a cookie stand across the street, I had to run by the bank and get change for the register. They’re selling like crazy, don’t worry I already snagged a box of thin mints for you.” His eyes land on Chloe. “Oh hey!” He pushes Rachel lightly to the side and reaches for her hand. “I’m Jake, you must be Chloe.”

“Yeah that’s me.” She shakes his hand, gripping hard enough that Max can see her knuckles go pale. Jake seems utterly unaffected and continues to grin kindly. “How’d you guess?”

“Rachel talks about you constantly. Tall, blue hair, smoking like a chimney. Which means you must be Max?”

“Yes!” She hastily brushes her clammy palm off on the front of her dress before shaking his outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Well I won’t intrude on girl-time, I just couldn’t resist finally meeting you.” He says _girl-time_ almost exactly like Max’s dad and she has to bite her lip to keep from grinning as Chloe groans quietly next to her.

“That’s okay, _girl-time_ was just coming to an end. I’m just about falling asleep anyways.” Chloe gets to her feet with some effort and turns to Max. “Want a ride back to School? We can give the lovebirds some time.”

Rachel looks deeply uncomfortable, eyes darting away from Chloe’s but inevitably finding their way back to her again almost immediately. Max finds herself worrying they might roll straight out of her head if she doesn’t stop. Jake seems entirely oblivious, still looking at Chloe with puppy-like enthusiasm.

“Oh no, stay! I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“Don’t sweat it, it was nice meeting you.” Chloe gives him a hearty clap on the shoulder and begins crossing the green with long strides, leaving Rachel looking bewildered and Max scrambling to follow her.

The ride home is silent aside from Brody Dalle’s voice coming through the speakers. When they finally pull into the lot Chloe’s mouth twitches like she might say something but she looks away instead. Max treads carefully as if tending a skittish animal.

“Chloe—”

“It’s fine Max. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Max nods, cheeks burning. Chloe softens.

“I don’t mean—I’m just not in a good place tonight, okay? We can talk about it another time though.”

“Okay Chloe. I’m on your side, you know?”

Chloe smiles and ruffles Max’s hair, before reaching across to open the passenger door which has a nasty habit of sticking unless you know exactly how to jiggle the handle. “Thanks Mad Max. Damn. I’m really glad you’re home.”

Those words, genuine and wonderfully tender, erase the tension that Jake’s arrival had wedged in her chest. Tonight, Arcadia Bay does feel like home.

***

“Was it you?”

Victoria stomps down the hall, kitten heels clacking like the hooves of a very agitated horse. Max sneaks a look around the door of her locker to find that she’s the unlucky recipient of today’s tantrum. She shrinks against the lockers, unsure what to do. Maybe she could squeeze herself in…

“Answer me Caulfield.”

“Sorry Victoria but I don’t know what you’re talking abou—"

“Cut the bullshit Maxine.” The locker slams closed and Max gets a better look at Victoria. Her usual champagne blonde is tinged a sugary pink. She closes in around Max, fencing her against the lockers with taught arms. Max blushes a deeper pink than Victoria’s hair, people are stopping to stare.

“Oh! What happened to your hai—"

“Don’t act like you don’t know! Maybe it was Rachel or you or her little stray, but either way you know damn well what happened.”

Victoria is furious, her white knuckled fists are balled on either side of Max’s head. She’s taller than Max realized, maybe even Chloe’s height. The pink hair actually suits her complexion but pointing that out would only make her temper flare hotter. 

“Maxine,” Victoria leans even closer and Max forces herself to make eye contact although her body is screaming at her to run, “just tell me who put dye in my shampoo and you’ll walk away from this mostly intact.”

“Hey! Beauty school drop-out. Back off.”

The sea of people parts and Rachel strides forward. From Max’s position, caught between the solid row of lockers and the equally solid line of Victoria’s body, Rachel could be Athena. She’s wearing denim and flannel rather than gilded armor, but her rigid jaw and glinting eyes say warrior all the same. Victoria rounds on her and the crowd shuffles, mouths gaping like carp.

“Rachel, thank you for joining us. Would you like to explain what the fuck happened to my hair?”

“Someone gave your mom-cut a necessary update? You should thank this mystery stylist, but we both know it wasn’t Max.” Rachel takes a step closer and Victoria looks like she’s going to falter for a moment before drawing herself up so she can look down her nose at the shorter girl.

“Did you do it because you’re jealous? I can’t blame you for lashing out. You’re like a fucking zombie lately. I mean really Rachel, the heroin chic look is getting a bit _too_ realistic. Does daddy know about your little habit?” Victoria turns to meet Max’s eyes again. “Does Maxine?”

“Cute, Vicky. Maybe you did it yourself because you’re obviously starving for attention.” Rachel steps in even closer, putting herself between Max and her foe. Max struggles to think of a single helpful thing she can do or say and comes up blank. Rachel’s voice is deadly low, just loud enough that Max can hear. “Do you think _this_ will get her attention? Do you think she gives a fuck about a manic panic dye job and an $800 leather jacket?”

Max has no idea who Rachel is referring to but the comment appears to lodge itself firmly under Victoria’s skin, her eye flashing with malice and utter contempt, lip curling into a snarl.

“I don’t know who you think you’re talking to Amber, but not everyone is a dyke. Stop projecting.” She spits the words at Rachel, shoulder-checking her as she passes by.

Max puts a cautious hand on Rachel’s arm to stop her from following, finally managing to find her voice. “Just let her go, it’s not worth it.”

Rachel pulls her arm away and Max’s heart sinks for an instant before she feels fingers lacing through hers. “Thanks, super Max.” Her voice is shakier than Max has ever heard it before. “Come on we don’t want to keep Chloe waiting.”

***

The sky is grey and the air is cold enough to chew through Max’s sweater, straight down her spine. Chloe drove the three of them to an abandoned parking lot down by the old wharf for some inexplicable reason. The moment they hopped a curb to drive around the locked gate, ignoring several signs that explicitly mentioned trespassers and private property, alarms started ringing in her head. Yet, here she is, following the siren call of cool girls and all the cliché teen mischief she usually avoids.

The ride down was quieter than usual but not uncomfortably so. Both Chloe and Rachel seem perfectly content to pretend that Jake’s intrusion at the festival never happened at all which is a relief to Max who had been worried about it all weekend.  

“Do you mind if I smoke?” Rachel looks at Max expectantly.

Max shakes her head no and watches Rachel bring the colorful glass pipe to her lips. The flame licks the edges of the bowl, its contents crackling. She watches Rachel’s eyes close, head tipping back, face awash with pleasure. She looks like the star of a chocolate commercial, Max thinks. The kind where a thin beautiful woman bites the corner of a single square and the background fades to a swirl of brown and gold. Whatever peace she can find is well deserved after this morning’s events.

Chloe rides towards them, summoned by the sour musky smell. She props her skateboard against the back tire of the truck as she takes her turn with the pipe. She keeps her eyes open; no head tilting, no obvious pleasure, just twin streams of smoke exhaled through her nose.

They’re all having a pleasant conversation about the rogue wave that allegedly rendered this wharf unusable thirty years prior when Chloe’s mood starts to shift.

“It was 50 ft high.”

“Chloe, no offense, but there is no fucking way. People would remember that.” Rachel takes a drag off Chloe’s cigarette before returning it to her.

“Mr. Gadson remembers it.” Chloe insists.

“It was the middle of the night and he was ancient even then. Even if he did see something who knows how tall it really was.”

“Honestly Chloe he isn’t the most reliable witness, remember when he told us he saw a giant serpent in the bay once?” Max adds, recalling the bearded old man talking their ears off at the grocery store years ago. Max’s mother had been quick to pull them to the registers after that.

“Maybe he did. Victoria had to slither down from Seattle somehow.”

Rachel pales at Chloe’s mention of Victoria but to Max’s surprise she launches into the story of their encounter anyway.

“So, who did put the dye in Victoria’s shampoo and why didn’t we think of that ages ago?” Chloe says wryly when she finishes.

“It wasn’t funny Chloe, she’s totally unhinged.” Rachel says brusquely. Max catches the way her voice shrinks, tired and uneven.

“Oh, come on Rach. So she called you a junkie and a dyke. What else is new?”

 “Chloe!” Max says surprised by the sharpness in her voice and her willingness to go to bat for Rachel. Chloe either doesn’t notice the warning in her tone or doesn’t care. She’s being more mercurial now that they’re out of the confines of the truck, like a small flame gaining access to a breeze. Max doesn’t know for certain if it has anything to do with meeting Jake at the festival, but she does know that she doesn’t like it.

“What?” Chloe gives Max a wilting look. “I’m allowed to say it. Reclaim it or whatever. You know since I’m a _lesbian_.”

Rachel says nothing but they glower at each other for a moment, tense with words unsaid. Words that probably have everything to do with the thing Max isn’t supposed to know. The Rachel and Chloe sleeping together _thing_ that always seems to hang over them. The thing that Max suspected before Chloe confirmed it simply because that particular brand of tension is far too intense to be fueled by anything else.

“I don’t think-”                               

“It’s okay Max,” Rachel says quietly, squeezing her hand and giving her a nearly convincing smile, “Hey, we should go get coffee. I’m cold and in need of caffeine.”

Chloe shrugs, “Fine, but we can’t go to the diner. Joyce is going to hover over us the entire time if she spots Max again. She’s a fiend.” Her mood apparently shifting back, no venom in her words.

“The woman lives with Sargent Butthead and _you._ She’s probably just excited to talk to someone who responds with more than grunts.” Rachel says, hopping off the tailgate and aiming a playful kick at Chloe’s butt in one fluid motion. Chloe dodges at the last second but the sentiment is clear, their silent argument is over, just like that.

***

The dorms are chilly when Max and Rachel finally return. They linger in the common room for a half hour, drinking tea out of little mugs and picking at the chocolate pecan pralines Max’s parents sent down for her birthday. They chat about the reading they both forgot to do for English class and Rachel makes a couple half hearted attempts to explain the premise of Mr. Keaton’s latest screenplay (“he says the flamingoes are a metaphor for the inner child but I think her just wants us to reuse all the plastic ones left over from the production of Alice in Wonderland two years ago.”) but they’re both too exhausted to do much else and retreat to their rooms soon after.

Max flops into bed fully clothed and is debating whether or not it’s worth it to get up and find pajamas when there’s a dull knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Dana tiptoes into the room, gently closing the door behind her.

“Can we talk?”

“Of course.” Max says, sitting up and patting the bed beside her. Dana moves to sit on the comforter.

“I did something awful and the guilt is killing me.”

Max feels her stomach twist. Did she steal something? Sleep with someone’s boyfriend? Kill somebody?

“I put the dye in Victoria’s shampoo.”

Max laughs before she can stop herself. “You what?”

“Ugh I know, it was a stupid petty thing to do.” Dana scrubs her face with her palms. “I just can’t stand the way she treats Kate. I know she’s kind of quiet and… sheltered, but she’s a good person. She helped me out of a tight spot a few weeks ago. I ate too many of those edibles Nate was selling and I had a horrible reaction. It’s embarrassing now but honestly, I thought I was dying. Kate found me crying in the bathroom and took me back to her room. She made me tea and gave me cookies, even let me color with her fancy illustration markers that cost a fortune. We hadn’t spoken more than three words to each other before then but she still took care of me the whole time.”

“Wow, I never knew that.”

“Yeah, she’s also good at keeping things secret, especially awkward or embarrassing things. Anyways I heard Victoria confronted you today and I realized that I need to tell her it was me. I hope she didn’t say or do anything too awful.”

“It’s okay, really. I think Rachel took the brunt of her anger anyways.”

“Yeah Rach is fearless with her, always calls her on her bullshit.”

 “I think maybe she’s not as impervious to it anymore.” Max doesn’t want to gossip necessarily but Victoria had a point, Rachel has seemed weaker lately. “I wish Victoria would just grow up.”

“My mom always says people who lash out the worst are hurting the most. It doesn’t excuse it but maybe we should try a different tactic.” Dana bites her lip and looks at the door, plainly nervous. “Well wish me luck.”

At Max’s request, Dana flips the lights off on her way out. Max decides to sleep in her clothes, trying to ignore the muffled sounds of the ensuing argument echoing from Victoria’s room, despite the nagging feeling that doing so was akin to ignoring an oily rag too close to a stove.


	7. Shameful Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone over-indulges and everything goes awry. 
> 
> I'm posting a longer chapter than usual, way earlier than usual, because i'm going to attempt NaNoWriMo and I won't have the brain power to write much else! I have a fair amount of the next chapter written so I hope to finish it around Halloween and edit/post it sometime around the first week of November.

The first thing Rachel sees when she opens her eyes is a hairy armpit. _Shit_. Usually he’s out of her bed before daylight, slipping down to the parking lot while everyone is still asleep in their beds. The grey morning light pouring in the windows and muffled voices outside her door mock her.

"Jake, wake up!"

He groans and rolls over, oblivious. Scratch marks trace where his shoulder blade sinks into the smooth muscle of his back. She had been slightly overzealous last night.

"Jake!" she hisses, jostling the pillow.

"Humphhh." his eyes open slowly, lids the delicate purple of a sleepless night. "What's happening?"

He really is beautiful. His dark hair is sleep-rumpled, soft brown eyes slightly puffy, the imprint of her wrinkled pillow stamped into his cheek. A sharp pang of guilt stabs at her stomach. 

"We slept through my alarm. You need to leave before anyone sees."

"Of course. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea about you." his smile is warm and naïve.

That’s the beauty of dating someone from another school. He only hears half the rumors and he isn't around often enough to know which ones are true. By some miracle Jake still believes that she isn't a total shitshow and she's determined to maintain the illusion for as long as possible.

Jake yawns and starts pawing through the crumpled sheets. Rachel spots his shirt and hands it to him, getting a sleepy grin in return. They dress in silence, Jake pressing close as he reaches around her for a stray shoe, finding any excuse to touch her.

It's easy to imagine loving him. She feels like she _should_ love him. He said the words sometimes, she could draw them out of him with her hips when he was inside her and it gave her a little thrill. But she couldn't say them back. She couldn't even look him in the eye after they fucked, couldn’t even stand his arms around her. Something to figure out later, if ever.

When he's dressed, she cracks the door open and peers out. The hall seems clear, a dozen girl voices and steam billow out from under the bathroom door.

"Okay," Rachel slinks out, signaling for him to follow, "I think it's clear."

He stays close behind, miming an exaggerated tip toe. She giggles and swats him over to the stairwell. It's baffling to her that someone could be so bright and untarnished. His childhood was normal, his parents love each other, his little sister adores him. Rachel has never met anyone so well adjusted.

They make it to the parking lot without running into anyone of consequence. A couple of underclassmen catch them in the stairwell and gawk but they're probably harmless.

They stop at his car and he presses a kiss to her forehead.

“We should do something tonight. Maybe with Max and Chloe?” He says their names carefully, like he’s borrowing something that belongs to her.

“I can’t, you know that. The Vortex bitches are being neurotic about this party, I probably won’t even get a spare moment to myself.”

The best way to make a lie convincing is to make it true. Nobody would dare say Victoria isn’t neurotic, at least not once they met her (though she never intended to allow that to happen), and she certainly wouldn’t get a moment alone.

“Well if you manage to get out of there early, call me. I’ll take you all out for nighttime waffles.”

Rachel laughs. “Midnight breakfast!”

“Yes! That.” He gets in his car, eyes still hopeful. “Just let me know, okay?”

“I will.” She says closing his door for him.

She won’t though. Tonight is special, Halloween belongs to Chloe.

***

It’s a dreary, cold sort of day. The kind of fall day that feels more like midwinter despite the straggling leaves still painting the trees in deep reds and muddy browns. The shop is empty, as it tends to be on weekdays, except for Chloe and Steph. A dense fog has settled into the bay, blurring sky and ground and giving the impression of an endless grey void outside the windows.

“It’s like we’re the only ones left.” Chloe says, staring out the window. Somewhere to her right there’s the ominous sound of a water drop hitting the wood floor. “We need another bucket over here.”

Steph sighs and Chloe watches her massage her temples in the reflection on the window pane. She knows she’s been annoying today, and probably for the last few weeks, and maybe even the weeks before that, but she doesn’t know how to stop either. Standing up and getting the bucket herself is out of the question, the gloom is turning her legs to jelly.

“If we somehow missed the apocalypse and it really is just the two of us, you’re going to have to learn how to fetch your own buckets Price.” Steph ventures into the backroom for a bucket anyway.

Left alone with the echoing _plinks_ of a half dozen other leaks dripping into various containers, Chloe feels herself beginning to lose her mind. An image of her own making, Rachel and Jake rolling around in bedsheets, re-plays on a loop. At least they’re allowed to close early today.

Headlights cut through the fog and Chloe sits up, excited, only to be disappointed when they flash by without stopping.

“This shop makes me feel like I belong to this town, like I’m going to live and die here.” Chloe whines to nobody in particular, just needing to free the words from her mind before they start playing on a loop too. “I would rather be anywhere else.”

“I’d rather be on Becca’s couch playing video games.” Steph says, joining her at the window.

“You’ve got it bad for this girl.” Chloe grins. It is fun watching Steph being dragged, kicking and screaming, into loves firm embrace.

“She’s alright.” Steph’s face is unreadable, squished by the wrist she’s using to keep it propped up. “It’s still too new—”

“Bullshit, you’re head over heels.”

Steph cracks a grin, still half-hidden behind her palm. “If by that you mean it feels like I’m falling down the world’s longest staircase then, yeah definitely.”

“A brick staircase.”

It’s Chloe’s turn to stare out the window and render her face inscrutable while Steph tries to decipher it.

“Honestly Chloe, I think your staircase is a bit rougher than mine.”

“Maybe we should both start taking the elevator instead.”

Steph chuckles. “Well where’s the fun in that?”

***

Nathan is waiting by the door when Rachel returns to her room.

“What the fuck are you doing here Prescott?”

“Don’t be like that, I’m just checking in with you. It’s what friends do.”

Rachel scoffs and moves to sit in front of her mirror. Her makeup will take at least thirty minutes today; she looks like she hasn’t slept since last week.

“We _were_ friends. Past tense.”

“Is it because I hang out with Victoria? You’re both so territorial.” He settles onto her bed, moving her pillows around to make himself comfortable.

“I don't care about that but it definitely speaks to your lack of taste. What do you want?” Rachel massages her throbbing temples.

“You only hate each other because you’re the same goddamn person.” Nathan sneers. That sour look that used to cross his face sometimes seems to have taken up permanent residence. “But let’s put that aside, I’m here to talk business.”

“We don’t have any business Nate.”

“I think this will change your mind.” Nathan pulls a yellow bottle out of his pocket and shakes it so she can see the pills rattle around inside.

“I’m off that shit.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just out. You can’t quit cold-turkey, you fucking know that. I saw you in class yesterday, you were shaking like a leaf.” He turns his head and she catches a glimpse of something almost human. Sadness? Regret? It’s gone before she can place it. “Benzo withdrawal is dangerous Rachel. You don’t need me to tell you that.” Nathan puts the bottle on her bedside table.

“You’re right, I don’t. Not that it even matters because you're full of shit.”

“Don’t get defensive. I found these in your locker.” He holds up a second prescription bottle, this one empty. She hisses through her teeth involuntarily. What a stupid, sloppy mistake. She doesn’t need to look at it to know the name Joanna Chang is printed on the label. She remembers asking Frank who Joanna was and how he acquired her medication but he simply shrugged and asked whether she wanted them or not.

“Those could be anyone’s, you have no proof they were even in my locker.”

Nathan slams the bottle onto her bedside table making her jump.

“I don’t _need_ proof Rachel, I’m not trying to get you in trouble. I want to _help_.” The words sound too tender to be coming from his mouth, a ventriloquist’s trick. “These are free.” He says shaking the full bottle again. “A peace offering.”

“Gee, thanks Nate but I have everything under control.” Rachels stomach lurches as if rebelling against the words. "After all, I learned from you."

She hasn’t been especially careful lately and Nathan knows the signs well but the fact he’s been observing her so closely still makes her skin prickle with anxiety. Everything does lately, come to think of it.

“Whatever. Die in your sleep if you’d rather."

“So dramatic. I only use it a few times a week for panic attacks. I’ve had to use a little more because I built up a tolerance. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I do know how it is. You can trust me, okay? Especially about this. There's a few bars and some Klonopin. You know how to taper it, do it right.” He opens her bedside tables drawer and tucks both bottles in next to her notebook.

“Why do you fucking care Nate?” The words rattle around the room, deflated. They had been friends, hadn’t they? Or something close to that at least.

“I care because I got you into this shit in the first place. I feel responsible.”

“Well you’re not. Now please go.”

Rachel watches Nathan shuffle toward the door through the mirror. He looks shitty too. Gaunt hollow cheeks, dark around the eyes, thinner than usual. Maybe it’s just time for everything to catch up with them, the sad spoiled rich kids finally getting punished, some kind of cosmic evening out.

He pauses, hand on the door, looking at her through dull eyes. “Get your shit together Rach, you’re better than this.”

“So are you.”

He laughs bitterly and disappears through the door.

***

It’s already dark when Chloe pulls up in front of the dorms. She sends Rachel a text before settling in to wait. Two sexy cats cut through the beam of her headlights, followed by a decidedly less sexy zombie toting a handle of Burnett's. Chloe looks down at her flannel shirt and suspenders and sighs. The thing about group costumes is that away from the context of the group, they look like nothing at all. She lights a cigarette and watches moths dance over the windshield.

Minutes later, Max appears, breaking away from the throng of students filing out of the dorms. She’s wearing a red gingham dress that she must have borrowed from Rachel.

“You look fucking adorable.” Chloe says and Max rolls her eyes, cheeks flushing pink. “Hey where’s your hood, Red?” Chloe asks, leaning over to open the passenger side door. “If I have to do this shit, so do you.”

“It’s in my bag, I just wanted to wait till we got there to put it on.” Max tugs at the hem of her dress to keep it from riding up when she climbs in. “This feels kind of…”

“Stupid? Sorry Maximus, that’s the price you pay for Rachel’s friendship. You can’t worm your way out of this. Hood. On. Now.” Chloe pulls the cheap red fabric out of her bag and tosses it at her just as Rachel appears in the headlights.

“Holy shit... Did she make the ears herself?”

“Maybe she bought them online?” Max offers, scooting closer so Rachel can slide in next to her.

“Actually, I stole them from the drama lab. They’re Nick Bottom’s donkey ears technically, but I think they get the point across.” Rachel says, helping Max tie the string on her hood.

Chloe can’t remember a version of Little Red Riding Hood where the wolf is wearing a corset but Rachel’s right, it gets the point across.

Max takes a couple half-hearted photos for her wall before they set out, but Chloe gets the sense that she’s nervous for her first Vortex party. Rachel must also notice because she slings an arm around Max’s shoulder and keeps it there for the entirety of the drive.

The party is being held at Nathan’s uncle’s cabin. In Chloe’s opinion “cabin” isn’t necessarily the best word for the 10,000 square foot monstrosity, even if it is made entirely of logs and stone. The name “ecological disaster” or “huge waste of resources” might fit better. Rachel had dragged her here for a party two years ago and she still remembers the shiny eyed taxidermy bear, forever watching over the foyer.

The woods around the cabin are dark and dense but the sounds of the party, bass and overlapping voices, echo down the gravel road. When the crowd finally comes into view, Max gasps and Chloe barks a laugh. A burning couch is lighting up the front yard, flames almost licking at the pines above.

“Well that just seems like a bad omen.” Max says shifting in her seat.

“Almost biblical.” Rachel adds, sounding amused.

***

The living room is so humid it’s verging on tropical when they walk in. It’s hot enough that the grand three-story windows on either side of the fireplace are fogging. Neon lights are propped everywhere casting everyone blue-green. The crowd is huge, at least triple the number of last year’s party. Rachel tugs anxiously at the faux fur around the bottom of her dress. The familiar feeling of every eye in the room turning to watch her is suddenly unpleasant. An unfamiliar girl with green hair bats her lashes in Chloe’s direction. Everything feels wrong. Rachel reaches down and grabs Max’s hand, both of their palms already sweaty.

“It isn’t usually this crowded.” She shouts over the deafening music. “Half of these people are total randos.”

Max’s brows knit anxiously but she shrugs. “I’ll just stick to Chloe until it settles down.”

“Like glue!” Chloe says scooping her arm around Max’s shoulders and jostling her. “We’ll head over to the kitchen and get some drinks.”

Poor naïve Max, parties this big only get more chaotic as the night goes on. Rachel squeezes her hand before Chloe drags her back through the crowd, making a beeline for the kitchen. The bass thumps inside her chest. Dancing usually helps dissolve her social anxiety but she doesn’t feel much like dancing.

“Rach!” Juliet and Dana wave to her from across the room. They push through the bodies from either direction, finally meeting in front of the river rock hearth.

“I see, you raided the drama lab.” Dana says reaching up to feel the furred donkey ears.

“It looks like you did too.” Rachel laughs and tugs on a wing of the, clearly stolen, fairy costume. Dana grins and winks, sending some of the glitter painted onto her face tumbling down her cheeks.

“I can’t believe you dorks stole costumes from the same play.” Juliet says with a smirk.

“Why didn’t you dress up Jules? You could have borrowed something too.” Rachel asks looking at her A-line skirt and tight sweater.

“I did dress up! I’m Nancy Drew, see?” Juliet holds up a magnifying glass.

“In Rachel’s defense, you do dress like that all the time.”

“Ugh, I should have gotten a red wig. At least I don’t look like a disco ball.”

“Whatever! If Kesha can do it, so can I.”

Juliet’s eye’s get wide as she spots a face in the crowd. “Hey is that Mandy Brown? She doesn’t even go to Blackwell, I haven’t seen her in ages. Mandy!”

Dana rolls her eyes and politely greets Mandy, who’s wearing a very tight pleather nurse costume. She introduces herself to Rachel who’s seen her around Franks but decides not to point that out in present company.

“So,” Mandy reaches into her bra and pulls out a baggie of brightly colored pills shaped like little skulls, “does anyone want to try?”

“What are those?” Juliet says staring horrified at the slightly sweaty bag pinched between Mandy’s cheetah print acrylics.

Rachel guesses they’re ecstasy but probably not good quality. Anything harder than weed and non-prescription is a bit of a gamble in Arcadia Bay.

“I dunno, I just told my dealer I wanted party favors. He said this would make everything really trippy for like an hour or two and then wear off. I don’t like anything too strong you know?”

Mandy looks like the kind of girl who doesn’t mind taking something too strong every now and then, but again Rachel says nothing.

“Those look like Flintstone vitamins.” Rachel says skeptically. “What are they cut with?”

“I don’t know.” Mandy shrugs and carefully chooses a purple skull. She swallows it dry. “It’s not bad though, you just have to keep dosing every couple of hours. I’ve done it at concerts and I’m a total lightweight.”

She holds out a yellow skull, Dana and Juliet gape and watch, wide-eyed as Rachel takes it from her.

“You’re not really going to take that right? When you don’t even know what the hell it is?” Juliet looks panicked, stepping closer like she might slap it out of Rachel’s palm. Rachel swallows it before she gets the chance, chasing it with a swig of Dana’s warm and slightly gritty punch.

“What? It’s Halloween I want to have fun.”

***

“Bleh! This is disgusting Justin. It needs more sprite or juice or something.”

Justin ignores Taylors request and waves at Chloe and Max as they enter the kitchen. Every available surface is littered with liquor bottles and near-empty 2 liters. Chloe kicks a beer can as she makes her way across the sticky tile.

“This place smells like Mr. Jacob’s store after that last earthquake.” Chloe says, peering over the side of the enormous cooler full of red liquid that Taylor is still wincing at. Candy eyeballs stare up at her. _Gross._

“Oh man, the wine section looked like a murder scene.” Trevor laughs, crawling out from under a small breakfast table. His eyes are so red they’re almost glowing. “I lost my phone by the way. If any of you see it, let me know. The case is—”

“Blue?” Max asks.

“Yeah! Have you seen it?”

Max reaches down and pulls it out of the front pocket of Trevor’s sweatshirt.

“Whoa! Check out eagle eyes here!”

“Thank you, I eat lots of carrots.”

Chloe moves away from the punch, eyes scouring the counters until she finds an unopened bottle of vodka. She grabs it and tucks it into the large inner pocket of the flannel. _Men’s clothes are so practical, why aren’t all pockets this deep?_

“Hey Max, do you want to partake?” Justin asks, gesturing to the bong sitting on the counter next to the punch. “I know Chloe does.”

“Tssst!” Chloe is back across the kitchen in two strides. “Tsst!” She hisses again, this time karate chopping Justin’s side for emphasis.

“Ow! Hey! Are you trying to Cesar Millan me?”

“Don’t peer pressure her!”

“I wasn’t!”

“Wait Chloe,” Max is chewing her lip but her voice is confident, “I think I want to try it. Just a little bit though.”

Chloe shimmies to sit up on the counter, ignoring the bottles that roll off the edge. “Wait seriously? Here? At this hella crowded party?”

“Yeah.” Max says smiling at her, clearly pleased to have surprised her. “Maybe it’ll help me chill out.”

“Oh, it definitely will!” Justin says with all the enthusiasm of a teen boy talking a girl way out of his league into spending time with him.

Chloe is too excited to chastise him for his transparent horn-dog behavior. “Fuck yeah! This is going to be so fun. When did you get so adventurous?”

Max shrugs nonchalantly but her impish grin betrays her. “You only live once right?”

***

The disco-ball flurry of blue and purple and green points of light melt into each other until the entire room looks submerged. Rachel floats aimlessly losing track of time and space and why she was so anxious to begin with. Everything is fine. She dances through the sea of faces, kissing Dana’s sparkling cheek when she drifts by. Dana giggles and they spin around, the tulle of her skirt flung out behind her.

“You really are Titania, aren’t you? All hail the fairy queen!” Rachel shrieks and they giggle more until she’s pulled away by the current of the crowd.

Someone large and sweaty collides with Rachel, jostling her closer to the wall. She hardly notices, moving her hips with the beat and losing herself in the vibrations of the bass. The heat of the colorful lights makes the back of her neck damp. Or maybe someone spilled a drink on her. It doesn’t matter much either way. Bodies push and roll around her, against her. None of it matters. Someone tall wraps their arms around her, pressing close to her ass. She smirks and grinds into the touch.

“Hi Chloe.”

“Not quite.” A male voice answers.

Rachel swings around, startled. Jake grins down at her. He’s wearing a skeleton suit under a grey sweatshirt. Donnie Darko. It’s sure to garner him lots of attention from these non-Blackwell alt-girls.

“How are you here?”

“There were fliers all around campus, like half my English class is in the kitchen. Some blonde chick was handing them out.”

_Victoria._ It had to be. She balls her fist and scans the crowd for a stupid fucking pixie cut. Jake turns her head and steals a kiss, long and slow. Maybe it’s the pills or the liquor or the heat or his mouth but Rachel melts into him, deciding to put aside her vendetta for the night.

***

Chloe pushes through the crowd in search of Rachel. It’s been close to an hour and a half and while she probably isn’t worried about Chloe, she’ll want to know how Max is doing. Especially now that Max is completely fried.

“Hey, slow down! I can’t move that fast.” Max’s eyes are so low she looks like she’s sleep-walking.

“Sorry.” Chloe resists the urge to laugh and puts an arm over Max’s shoulders, gently guiding her. “I think we maybe over-did it for your first time.”

“No shit.” Max’s eyes are glued to a tall man wearing a fairly true-to-life Big Bird costume. Chloe watches the horror bloom on her face in slow motion. _Oh no._

“Hey Max, why don’t we walk over here—”

“Oh, I don’t like that bird Chloe.”

“I know dude, that’s why we gotta go—”

“He’s looking at me Chloe. He knows I don’t like him.” Max whispers at her frantically.

“No Mad Max, it’s okay. It’s just the plastic eyes on the costume, he’s looking at that sweaty girl… Oh hey! It’s Rachel.”

“Chloe, he _knows._ ” Max wriggles against her side in terror.

Chloe waves over to Rachel trying to get her attention but the man standing behind her makes eye contact instead. _Fuck me…_

“Chloe! Nice woodsman costume, the suspenders really sell it.” Jake is smiling earnestly and doing his best to detach his face from Rachel’s grip, and Chloe feels bad for hating him. _At least he’s trying._

“Thanks. An axe would have really completed the look but Rachel said no weapons.”

Rachel finally turns and notices her standing there. Her eyes are dominated by wide pupils outlined with a thin line of hazel. Sweat and recently acquired glitter are pooling around her hairline, over her lips, under her eyes. She looks otherworldly in a coked-out sort of way.

“Chloe!” She flings her arms around Chloe’s neck and utters a breathy, “I missed you.”

“What are you on? I only left you for… I mean I guess it was awhile.”

“I don’t really know honestly, but it’s fantastic. I think I’m coming down a bit, maybe I’ll find Mandy and get more.” Rachel pulls away but keeps her hands on Chloe’s shoulders, then her neck, then her face. “You’re so beautiful Chloe, do you even know that?”

“I think it’s probably ecstasy.” Jake chimes in, startling Chloe who completely forgot he was there. “A lot of my friends go to festivals and she kind of has that look. By the way where’s Max? Rachel said she was with you.”

“Fuck!” Chloe whips around but Max is, in fact, gone. “She’s running from Big Bird. Listen, just keep this one away from Mandy, whoever the hell that is.”

“Sure thing boss!” He laughs warmly and gives her a commiserative look that says _we’re all in this together._ Despite his kindness, Chloe struggles to fight the urge to tell him how many times she’s fucked his girlfriend.

She circles back to the kitchen hoping Max had the good sense to go back to somewhere familiar.

***

Max feels a wave of anxiety crash over her and she squeezes her eyes closed. The deck under her feels like a row boat on rapids, pitching back and forth. She touches the ground to make sure it isn’t really moving. Now would be an awful time for an earthquake.

Somewhere behind her a door closes and someone says her name but she ignores it. She isn’t sure if she’s physically capable of speech right now anyway. Warm hands rub her arms.

“Max!”

She opens her eyes and sees Dana’s face, shimmering like it’s made of jewels, framed by a pair of huge transparent wings.

“Are you an angel?” She asks, hoping the words don’t come out as slow and janky as she suspects they will.

 “Oh my god! Dana, she’s like really fucked up.” Juliet says peering anxiously around the edge of a wing. “Max! You’re still alive hun! What on Earth did she take?”

“No.” Max heaves a sigh. “I mean your costume. Are you an angel?”

“Oh!” Dana laughs, relief flooding her face. “I’m a fairy!”

Juliet pushes Dana aside and crouches in front of Max. “Listen, did Rachel give you any of those pills she got from Mandy?”

Max shakes her head no and immediately regrets it when the world starts spinning again.

“Smoked too much. Everything is spinning.”

“Ohhhh.” Dana and Juliet say in unison.

“Well we can help with that.” Dana says with confidence. “When is the last time you ate?”

“Uh… this morning I think.”

“I have a whole bucket of mac and cheese in the car.” Juliet says. “Low blood sugar makes everything worse.”

 “I’m sorry, you have mac and cheese… in your car?”

“Of course. I always bring snacks for the drive home.”

“Is macaroni and cheese really a snack?” Max asks, still not quite grasping the logistics of someone so scholarly and well-groomed keeping a bucket of pasta in their car.

“What? Do you want something else? I might still have pretzels in the trunk from the back to school party.”

“You know what?” Max stands up with Dana’s help. “Macaroni sounds good. Do you have forks?”

Juliet looks slightly offended but still grabs hold of her hand to guide her back through the crowd, “Well of course, Max. I’m not an animal.”

***

“I haven’t seen Max since you both left like five minutes ago,” Justin says with a shrug, “how did you lose her so fast?”

“She got spooked by that guy in the bird costume.”

“Oh, Big Bird. Yeah that costume is giving me weird vibes too, I don’t blame her.”

Chloe gazes into the large punch bowl feeling like one of the partially dissolved candy eyeballs floating around the surface. The smell of the concoction is so sweet it’s downright nauseating. She pours some of her stolen bottle of vodka into a paper cup decorated with pumpkins and skulls before wandering back through the crowd. Shoving past sweaty bodies, she carefully avoids catching Rachel’s eye as she slips outside. The porch is mostly empty aside from a couple, quietly dry humping against the opposite railing. She lights a cigarette and blows smoke in their direction hoping that it might motivate them to leave. The crowd in the front yard cheers as the couch collapses in on itself, producing a large amount of black smoke that smells particularly unhealthy.

Halloween is usually her favorite holiday, surpassing her birthday and Christmas and even free waffle day at the diner. This year it feels different though, lack-luster in a way that it’s never been before. She coughs around the cigarette hanging from her lips, the smoke tasting stale and oddly damp.

A car door slams and she spots Max finally, standing with Juliet and Dana near the edge of the driveway. Max points to a random guy by the fire and Juliet starts gesticulating. Chloe recognizes the game they’re playing immediately, it’s one Joyce used to play with them when they were little. One person picks a random passerby and the other must act out the victim’s inner monologue. Juliet points to a particularly drunk girl swaying near the edge of the fire and Dana mimics her tilted posture. They laugh loud enough that Chloe can hear them clear across the yard. She expects to feel something, jealousy or sadness, but she finds herself smiling instead. Max looks so happy, and (to her relief) significantly less stoned.

The dry-humping couple shuffles closer. A pretty red-head in a cat costume followed by a guy in a lazy attempt at a dog costume. The girl leans back against the railing and mouths the words to whatever lame pop-song is playing in the living room. The boy follows looking absolutely, almost pathetically, in love.

Chloe tries to think of anyone looking at her that way, all puppy-eyed and _yearning,_ but she comes up blank. Whatever Rachel has or hasn’t been to her, she has never been so obviously enchanted. She doesn’t even look at Jake that way come to think of it. Rachel is always the one to walk around, unaware of her admirers tripping over themselves. _Always._

“And what are you supposed to be dressed as, Price? An even gayer lesbian?” Victoria sidles up next to her, kitten heels clicking flatly against the wood deck. She’s wearing a torn green dress with a fake crow attached to the shoulder, and is sporting a few spatters of fake blood. Her hair is back to champagne blonde, only the barest hint of rose lingering in some of the highlights. She takes the cup from Chloe’s hands and sips it, wrinkling her nose. “That tastes like paint thinner.”

“Tippi Hedren?”

“Correct.” Victoria sounds vaguely impressed.

“You’re at a stupid house party Vic, wouldn’t slutty ladybug or naughty burn victim be more appropriate?”

“No.” Victoria scoffs. “I never lower _my_ standards to make other people feel less idiotic.”

 Chloe drains the cup and tosses it in the general direction of the couch-fire. She watches the orange curl to black as the paper burns, remnants floating up into the pines. Before she can overthink it, she loops an arm around Victoria’s waist, dragging her close.

“Maybe you should lower your standards, Vic. Just for tonight.” She breathes into Victoria’s ear, voice husky from the alcohol. Victoria shivers against her in response.

The walk back inside is a blur. Their lips occasionally grazing a cheek or chin but always _just_ missing the mark. Chloe can sense that Victoria wants to tease her, make a show of it. She drags Chloe into the living room, pining her against the wall, dancing against her in time to the music. It’s a move that’s so classically Rachel, it would sting if the vodka wasn’t numbing her.

Chloe spies Jake across the room, which isn’t very difficult considering they’re both a head taller than almost everyone else. He’s scanning the crowd, probably looking for Rachel, but his eyes lock onto hers. He looks between her and Victoria and gives her a big grin and a thumbs up. Chloe forces a grin, or bares her teeth anyway, and gives him a thumbs up that she knows probably looks sarcastic. It would be so much easier if he hated her like every other guy Rachel had ever been with, but he seems to genuinely want to get to know her. He seems like he wants to stick around.

Suddenly Victoria’s lips are on hers and everything else fades to a dull whine.

“Let’s go upstairs.” Victoria’s breath is hot on her ear, her hand sliding up Chloe’s shirt.

“Okay.”

***

Rachel parts the crowd like it’s the Red Sea, her eyes firmly locked on the kitchen. Whatever shitty drugs Mandy had given her are already wearing off. She’s thirsty and sweaty and if she wasn’t so burnt-out she would probably be anxious again. Instead her fluttering heart is only an annoyance. The harsh kitchen lights hurt her still dilated eyes, almost blinding her for a moment.

“Trevor can you get me some water.”

“You sure you don’t want some punch?”

Rachel glances at the sticky cooler. “Definitely not.”

“Are you rolling?” Justin asks, holding out a glass of tap water. She finishes it in three swallows. “Cause no offense but you look kind of… fucked.”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe I was but now I’m just hot and thirsty. Have you seen Max or Chloe?”

Justin and Trevor exchange a look that makes Rachel worry she’s missed something significant.

“Well?”

“Max got a little too high.” Trevor says looking anywhere but Rachel’s eyes. “Last I saw her, she was leaving with Chloe but apparently she ran off.”

“Max? Max Caulfield, got too high?”

“Yeah she said she wanted to try it but then she got a little over-confident and started trying to keep up with Chloe and…”

“I’m going to kill Chloe.” Rachel slams the glass onto the table and starts back towards the kitchen door.

“Good luck!” Trevor shouts after her.

“Tell Max we’re sorry!” Justin adds, but Rachel is already lost to the sea of people.

She pushes through the crowd, keeping her elbows out like she does when goes to concerts with Chloe. It’s too hot in here, sweat is rolling off her face, pooling in her cleavage and the small of her back. Her heart feels like it’s close to bursting. A breeze ripples through the room and she follows it, a woman possessed, straight out the front door and out onto the driveway.

A guy dressed as a mummy hangs in her peripheral, eyes glued to the top of her corset. Rachel turns to face him and his eyes light up.

“Well hello th—”

“Have you seen a small brunette with a gingham dress?”

“Gingham?”

“Like a picnic blanket.” She says impatiently.

“Oh! Yeah, she’s over by the bonfire. Want me to show you where it is?”

“There’s only one pile of burning furniture. I think I’ll manage, thanks.”

She moves fast, ignoring the sickening feeling of her heartbeat crawling up her throat. Max is probably so scared and Jake is still in there waiting and Chloe…

“Rachel!”

Dana, Juliet, and Max wave at her from across the fire. She walks over as quickly as she dares, feeling a little wobbly in her Mary Janes. Once she reaches them, she pulls Max into her arms.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have taken anything, that was irresponsible. I just wanted to be… Never mind, are you okay?”

Max smiles up at her looking a smidge bloodshot but no worse for wear.

“Yeah I’m feeling better now. I freaked out for a minute and lost track of Chloe. Have you seen her?”

“No but we need to find her. I can’t believe _I’m_ the one saying this, but we should probably call it a night.”

Max nods, eyes heavy, and stifles a yawn. “We can sneak Chloe into the dorm and have a movie night.”

“That sounds perfect.” Rachel says throwing an arm around Max and using her for balance while she pulls off the uncomfortable heels. “Honestly fuck these shoes, I’m switching to bunny slippers once we get back.” The ground is cold and hard under her feet, only protected by thin pantyhose. “Alright Red, let’s go find our woodsman.”

***

Chloe pushes Victoria into a bedroom, door slamming against the wall with a loud crack. It's an honest mistake; a miscalculation of force thanks in part to the nearly empty bottle of vodka in her hand.

"Dear god price! Can you try a less dramatic entrance?" Victoria snaps, assessing the fresh dent in the drywall.

"Fuck. That was- I don't know how that happened."

"I shouldn’t be surprised. Where you go, destruction ensues. Also, shh! This is supposed to be discreet."

"You shh!" Chloe slurs back, making her way to the bed. “You were not being very discreet downstairs.” Her suspender gets caught on the bed post and she's suddenly yanked backwards onto her butt. She runs a hand over her bruised lower back. "Ow, shit."

"Christ, you're a shitshow. How does Rachel deal with you?"

"We have an unbreakable bond." Chloe says solemnly "Also, I give pretty decent head. It makes up for all that I lack."

"Wait, really?"

Chloe nods and chuckles at the look on Victoria’s face. She doesn't know why but it's suddenly all very funny to her.

"Isn't that why you’re doing this."

Victoria looks caught off guard, an expression so rare that Chloe can't decipher it for a moment.

"I mean I always suspected you two were… I just- I wasn't sure."

Victoria reminds Chloe of her childhood cat, Bongo. Always chasing mice but completely unaware of what to do when he actually caught one. Well she allowed herself to be caught and she isn't going to let it go to waste.

Chloe pulls a cigarette out of her pocket and Victoria snatches it away immediately. Chloe catches her wrist.

“Chloe you can’t smoke in here.”

“Someone dragged a couch out of the living room and lit it on fire.”

“I don’t want their linens to reek, it’s common courtesy.”

Chloe shrugs and tosses the unlit cigarette onto the floor before dragging Victoria down onto the bed. At first Victoria perches on the edge, ever cautious, but she doesn't resist when Chloe pulls her further.

Victoria is wide-eyed and flush but she doesn't look nervous. Chloe leans to her ear and breathes the words softly. "Do you want me to show you what I do with Rachel?"

"Yes."

Chloe feels the familiar heat rising in her belly when Victoria's mouth finds hers. She has to admit the girl is a decent kisser, eager but compromising. To Chloe’s surprise she feels Victoria dragging her hand up to her throat. Fueled by a hunch and too much cheap liquor, Chloe pulls away, still gently clutching Victoria’s throat. Victoria's neat brows furrow.

"Get on your knees V."

Victoria doesn't hesitate and Chloe has to swallow a laugh.

Chloe tips Victoria's chin up, running a thumb over her bottom lip, "I knew you were all bark and no--"

Victoria brings her teeth down over Chloe’s thumb. Chloe does laugh now. It's so easy.

"Take off your clothes." Chloe says.

Victoria takes off her dress, neatly laying it over a chair.

“Leave the stockings.” Chloe says.

Victoria leaves the stockings.

***

Max pulls Rachel up the stairs, holding her around the wrist. Somehow Rachel’s condition has deteriorated and she looks close to coronary failure. The landing seems miles away, the stairs steep and endless. Over the banister Max catches sight of Big Bird, dancing alone by a speaker. He waves at her and she grabs Rachel’s arm harder, ignoring her complaints. She isn’t sure if she believes in God, but if he is real, he’s almost certainly punishing her. Maybe Kate can tell her how to settle her spiritual debts later.

“Come on Rachel, we’re almost at the top!” It’s not true, but it sounds encouraging.

“I can’t go any faster, my stupid pantyhose are trying to kill me.” As she says it her foot slides out from under her, nylon slipping around on the polished wood. Max hears her knee connect with the step as she scrambles forward trying to catch herself. “Ow!”

They finally make it and Rachel takes a moment to remove the torn stockings. Max helps her up, noticing the blisters on her heels. Her decision to wear chucks had felt kind of lame back at the dorms but now she’s grateful for her comfy shoes.

The hall stretches out in front of them, dimly lit and mostly empty. There are at least a half dozen doors and nothing to indicate where Chloe might be.

“It’s like a hotel.” Max says, grabbing hold of the first door handle. She knocks first but gets no response, the handle jiggles it to no avail, “it’s locked.”

“I’ll try over here. Yeah, the Prescott’s are old money. They have houses like this all over the west coast.” Rachel tries a door on the other side of the hall, it swings open but it’s empty. “They have an entire ranch in Montana, Nate got sent there the summer after freshman year so the cowboys could teach him morals or whatever.”

“I’m going to assume it didn’t work.” Max knocks at another door and a girl with braids answers it, behind her a man is waiting on the bed.

“Can I help you?”

“Sorry wrong door!”

The girl shrugs and closes it. Only two more to go.

“Oh Max you should have joined them.” Rachel tries her trademark wink but it looks like more of a wince. “ Anyways, you’re right. Nate learned nothing and they sent his ass home like two weeks later, probably couldn’t sta—” Rachel’s voice cuts off with a breathless little “oh”.

Max walks over to where she’s standing in the doorway of a room across the hall. Before she even sees them, lithe nude bodies wrapping around each other, she knows who it is. Rachel’s expression says it all, deflating and crumbling in on itself. Max moves to stand beside her in time to see Chloe, mouth slack and eyes wide, roll off of a smug looking Victoria.

“Rach—” Chloe hiccups and pulls the blanket up around her shoulders leaving Victoria bare and scrambling for cover.

“Oh.” Rachel breathes again and Max can hear the tears despite not being able to tear her eyes away from the scene on the bed.

Rachel turns and runs down the hall, taking the stairs with surprising speed. Max pulls the door closed and starts after Rachel, desperately wishing she could go back to five minutes ago when she didn’t know what everyone’s nipples looked like.

“Rachel!” She shouts helplessly watching her push through the front doors and out into the night.

***

Chloe rests her head on the passenger window of the truck and tries not to vomit as Max takes a turn too fast.

“Slooooow Max, slooow.” She slurs, watching the heat of her breath fog the glass.

“Sorry, this thing is hard to drive and I haven’t driven at all since Seattle.”

“And the weed.”

“That too.” Max agrees keeping her eyes on the road.

“I’m sorry about that.” Chloe feels tears well up and lets them fall. She’s well past the point of hiding anything now. “I’m sorry about all of it. If you don’t want to see me again—”

“I’m not mad at you, I’m just trying to… digest everything. Plus, I’m worried about Rachel, she’s still not answering her phone.”

“We looked everywhere. She must be with Jake.” His name tastes sour in her mouth. Or maybe it’s bile.

They’re quiet for a bit but Chloe can see the wheels turning in Max’s head. There’s a specific way she clenches her jaw when she’s mulling over her words, careful to pick the right ones.

“Chloe, do you even like Victoria?”

“Well, not usually. I don’t like how she treats people, but I don’t think she’s as evil as Rachel does.”

Max nods and Chloe waits watching her shift her jaw trying to find her next question.

“Was it, you know… worth the trouble?”

“She was alright but… remember when used to ask your grandma for dessert and she’d give us licorice?”

“I liked the licorice actually.” Max muses.

“Licorice is good but it’s still not cake, you know?”

“Rachel is cake?”

“Homemade with buttercream frosting.” Chloe nods.

Max sighs and reaches across the seat to hold Chloe’s hand. Chloe wipes her clammy palm on her knee before taking Max’s fingers in her own. A deer darts across the pavement further up the road and Max slows to crawl while the rest of the small herd passes. Chloe watches the white tufts of tail disappear into the forest.

“She hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you.”

“Everything is going to be different now.”

“Maybe it’ll change for the better.” Max insists. “I mean she’s with Jake, she can’t be this mad without admitting it’s because—”

“It’s because she fucking hates Victoria. That’s all.”

“Well I don’t think that’s the whole reason but… she really hates Victoria. Why did it have to be her Chloe?” Max pulls her hand away to grip the wheel through a painfully sharp turn. Chloe’s stomach lurches but she wills the bile back down her throat.

“I just… I wanted to feel wanted.”

They turn down Chloe’s street at last, the truck shuddering to a stop in front of the partially blue house.

“You guys can talk about it tomorrow when you’ve both slept it off.”

Chloe nods weakly. She knows that isn’t how it’s going to play out, part of her knew from the moment Victoria’s lips met hers. She doesn't have the energy to explain that to Max now.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Chloe glances at Max’s feet as they walk up the driveway. “Oh good, you have decent climbing shoes, the drainpipe is a bit rusty.”

“Dammit Chloe, are we sneaking in?”

“We are.”

“It’s official, I’ve been corrupted.”

Chloe barks a laugh that visibly startles Max. “Sorry, I’m just happy to accomplish something positive tonight.”


	8. The Girl You Pictured In A Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is longer and way fluffier than I anticipated! It's mainly going to serve as a bridge to the next chapter (one that will have more plot and less bouncing around). NaNoWriMo was a success but threw me way off schedule, so thank you for your patience!

The worst thing about Chloe Price, Rachel decides, is the almost tangible silence that settles in when she isn’t around. It’s been almost a month since they last spoke and Rachel is running out of ways to drive out the quiet. Tonight’s attempt, listening to the Wuthering Heights audiobook, is a complete failure so far.

_“Be with me always, take any form-- drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!_ ”

Rachel groans and yanks out her headphones.

It’s past three and Rachel should be tired, should have been asleep hours ago, should not be waiting on a call that probably won’t come. She stands up, stretches, and moves the laundry around on her couch without actually sorting it or doing anything that could be misconstrued as cleaning.

Last month when she felt like this, anxious and desperately lonely, she would pop a couple of pills and let the night drown itself in inky forgotten splotches. Now she paces a rut into the carpet and practices her breathing, which is apparently something that can and should be practiced. After Halloween, Rachel tucked her tail and began the process of tapering the pills. It was awful at first; tremors, vertigo, insomnia, and an awful lingering dread. It’s still miserable but slightly better now and it’ll be even better in another month, or at least that’s what she tells herself.

Somewhere in the mess of blankets on her bed, her phone starts chiming out a tinny melody. She launches herself at it, shaking out handfuls of quilt until the phone drops onto the mattress. She lets it ring in her palm one more time so she doesn’t come off as desperate.

“Hello?” Rachel answers without even looking at the caller ID. There’s only one person it could be.

There’s a routine to these calls. Rachel answers, gets no response, and sometimes hears a snippet of something on the other end before the line goes dead. Three days ago there was a car horn and a week prior, the click of a lighter.

“Hey.” The voice is low, gravelly with smoke and lack of sleep. It tugs low in her belly.

Rachel doesn’t know what to say so she waits. A cigarette crackles on the other end of the line.

“I know you’re mad,” Chloe hiccups, “but you don’t get to storm off into the night like that.”

“Did you want me to stay and watch?”

“No, I—” Rachel can hear the flick of her lighter. She always fumbles with it when she’s nervous. “I wanted… I don’t know.”

“Why are you calling now?”

“I didn’t want to leave things so...” Chloe sighs. “Why haven’t you called me?”

Rachel hesitates. Telling Chloe about the pills would only make her worry. “I’ve been dealing with something.”

“Right.” Chloe snorts. “You know, it shouldn’t even be that big of a deal. You have no right to be mad.”

“It didn’t have to be her. You know how I feel about Victoria.” Rachel can tell that she sounds like a child but steams over it anyway. “You could have had anyone else at that stupid fucking party and you chose _her_.”

“I didn’t do it to spite you Rachel. Not everything is about your ego.” Chloe says stiffly.

Rachel can feel her pulse in her ears.

“I’m not trying to make it all about me, Chloe, but it’s so obvious that she did this to get under my skin.”

“Right. It’s inconceivable that anyone could want me unless it somehow involves sabotaging you.” Chloe laughs, ragged and unhinged.

“You’re twisting my words. I just don’t trust her."

“How nice of you to look out for your charity case.” A siren wails somewhere on Chloe’s end. She must be outside, wherever she is. “I don’t need to trust her to fuck her, I figured _you_ would understand that.”

Her anger comes in a flash, like lightning, hot and precise as it splits her down the center.

“What is that supposed to mean exactly?”

“Do you trust him Rach?” The way Chloe says it, smirky and confident, sticks Rachel like a splinter. “Do you even _like_ him?”

“You know what? Fine. Do what you want with Vicky, but don’t come crying to me when she uses you up and spits you out.” Rachel forces the words through her teeth but she isn’t angry anymore. Suddenly she can feel the lack of sleep in her bones, making her thin-skinned and brittle against Chloe’s anger.

“It’s okay, you’ve really helped me acclimate to that sort of treatment.”

“That’s not fair.” She hopes the lump in her throat isn’t audible. It feels like she’s swimming through wet cement. “It isn’t like that with us.”

“Yeah? Then how is it Rach?” There’s a clink on the other end like glass on enamel. Is Chloe drinking? Rachel imagines her swaying on the roof outside her window, bottle in hand. It would explain why she’s finally breaking the silence between them. “Because it feels like we’re playing a game and every time I start to win, you change the rules.”

“Chloe, please. It’s not a game to me.”

“I’m sorry Rachel, I just can’t do this anymore.” Her voice wobbles and Rachel’s stomach drops because suddenly this is more than an eighth and an apology can fix.

“Chloe—” Rachel wipes her eyes on the back of her hand and finds it smeared with mascara.

“This time next year you’ll be in California cooking up excuses to stay there instead of coming back here to visit me on winter break. I’ll still be working in that shitty little shop with no future. It would be easier for both of us if it all just ended with this phone call.”

“No. The distance won’t change how I feel.” _I’m not Max,_ she wants to add, but she doesn’t. For one thing she quite likes Max and for another it’s a surefire way to upset Chloe further which, though tempting in the fog of her own pain, will only make things harder.

“Well proximity isn’t changing how I feel either.” Chloe mutters a curse and there’s a scuttling noise on her end of the line, followed by the sound of shattering glass. “That definitely woke up step-douche. Bye Rachel.”

“Wait—” There’s a click and Chloe’s gone.

Rachel stares at the phone screen until it goes black and she catches a glimpse of her face, mascara stained and puffy around the eyes. When her head hits the pillow the entire room seems to rock with the force of it. Vertigo is made worse by lack of sleep but it turns out it’s difficult to sleep while fighting the sensation of being on a boat in a hurricane.

Sleep comes and goes in odd waves that leave her feeling seasick and more exhausted than before. When the light outside starts to grow pale blue, familiar sounds float from down the hall; the door to the stairwell, the ice machine in the common room, the heat kicking on. She sits and listens to them all feeling simultaneously outside herself and trapped in her own head.

The dorms are still quiet when Rachel finally ventures out into the hall, which is fortunate because nobody is around to watch her puke in the common room trashcan or hear her cry in the shower. She lingers for a moment outside Max’s door, noticing the yellow slit of light peeking out.

As soon as she’s back in her room the shakes set in. She opens her nightstand and shuffles around all her old junk before finding what she needs. There’s a ratty old planner she uses to track the dose of valium as she tapers. This time next week there’s a gold star marking the point when she’ll be halfway through, something to celebrate if she could bring herself to be proud.

As she’s swallowing a pill, there’s a knock at the door. Max looks absolutely miserable, standing there in her fleece pajama pants and one of Chloe’s concert tees.

“Did you sleep?” Max asks, moving past her to plop onto the bed.

“Um, only a couple of hours.” Rachel replies closing the door and joining her on the bed. “Did you?”

“Yeah, right up until Chloe dropped a handle of vodka off the roof and woke up David.”

“Ahh, fuck.”

“Mhm. So Joyce dropped me off here, an hour ago and Chloe’s grounded basically forever.” Max yawns hugely and looks over to the windows. “Are those black out curtains?”

“Oh, yeah the streetlight under my window was keeping me up all—” Rachel pauses and watches Max stumble through the room like a sleepwalker, “night…”

Wordlessly, Max yanks the curtains shut and shuffles back to the bed.

“I’m sorry if this is rude but I never got curtains and the blinds do nothing to block the light, and I only got two hours of sleep last night—”

“Do you want to take a nap in here?”

Max’s cheeks flush as she nods. “If you don’t mind. I’m so sorry about this.”

“No need to apologize. Besides I was about to do the same thing.”

“Thank you. Should I go to Laundry Couch or—"

Rachel climbs under her covers and scoots to make room. “Don’t be silly, the bed is definitely big enough for two and I have pillows galore.”

Max hesitates for a moment before climbing in next to her. They stare at each other through the glassy haze of sleep deprivation and somehow it isn’t awkward. The soft brown freckles on Max’s nose look a bit like a constellation and Rachel wonders if they’ve changed over the years. Maybe Chloe had mapped them out in childhood. Rachel runs a finger over them without thinking. Max closes her eyes but doesn’t pull away.

“Chloe called me.” Her voice sounds bruised and dehydrated.

Max’s eye’s open and Rachel moves her hand to the pillow, suddenly nervous.

“I figured.” Max rubs her arm under the blanket. “She thought I was asleep when she snuck out the window. How did it go?”

“Not good.”

Max shifts up onto an elbow. Her eye’s look heavy and bloodshot making Rachel feel guilty for wasting her time with this. “Are you okay?”

“Not really…” Rachel pauses, maybe Max isn’t the right person to open up to now. Maybe she’s too close to the situation, too close to Chloe. There’s another gentle rub on her arm and she thinks _fuck it._ “When I first met Chloe I was so excited to finally have a real friend, I let her get all wrapped up in my bullshit. At the time I didn’t realize how fucked up it was, how much danger I put her in. I don’t want it to be like that again so sometimes I avoid telling her when I’m having a hard time, I leave out details, that sort of thing. Maybe that’s a mistake.”

“She doesn’t know about the pills?”

“She knows I have a prescription for my anxiety but she doesn’t know what it turned into.”

Max frowns, half-lidded sea glass eyes blinking slowly. “Chloe’s pretty tough, you don’t need to protect her anymore. Maybe you should try being honest.”

Rachel nods and is searching for something to say in response when Max begins to snore lightly. Staring at the ceiling, listening to Max’s breaths and the subtle noises of the rest of their dorm-mates waking up, her thoughts turn to Jake.

Life would be easy with him. She would go to LA for college, live in some tiny but insanely expensive apartment with him. They would both find jobs after college, maybe she would even try for law school and make daddy proud. A few years later he would propose and it would be smooth sailing from there. Big house, yellow dog, two kids, vacations twice a year. The kind of comfortable monotony that everyone wants for her. Almost everyone.

There is another version. The place her mind wanders when she forgets to tie it down. A beat-up truck, a long road stretching on like an unanswered question, a streak of blue. It wouldn’t be comfortable or predictable or conventional, but it would be theirs. Victoria’s smug face interrupts to remind her that door is closed now, was slammed closed in her face.

A few hours later Max wakes up with a groan that pulls Rachel out of a somewhat pleasant dream.

“Oh no.”

“S’okay, it’s only eight.” Rachel says. Her brain feels furry and slow. “You’re allowed to sleep in on the weekend.”

“It’s eight thirty and it’s Monday, Rachel.” Max says getting up to open the curtains. In the searing light of day, it’s obvious that neither of them had a good night. Half of Max’s fringe is sticking off at an angle and the other half is so rumpled it almost looks teased.

“Oh, right.” Rachel sits up and watches a panicking Max dart around the room like a minnow. “We only missed trig. Besides it’s the Monday before Thanksgiving, everyone is probably late or skipping.”

“Well maybe they can afford to miss class but I really can’t.” Max paces around apparently looking for her left shoe, which Rachel can see from her vantage point. She considers telling her to check under the desk but their next class isn’t until eleven anyways so she lets Max keep poking around the landslide of clothing from her closet. “Also, I barged in here and demanded a place to sleep. I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It was refreshing actually.” Rachel admits. She stretches and yawns, avoiding her reflection. She’s sure she looks like hell. Flecks of mascara are sprayed across her pillow. “It was nice to have you act so… familiar.”

Max pauses— head and torso half under the desk, finally clutching her shoe— and cranes her neck to look at Rachel. Her brows are furrowed but her eyes are tender.

“I hope you know I consider you a friend. Not just Chloe’s friend, or a school acquaintance.” Max drops the shoe and steps into it, kneeling to tie the laces. “Anyways my head is throbbing and I’m sure yours is too, we should go get some nasty gritty coffee from the caf before it’s gone.”

“It’s not even that bad. We can read the grounds in our cups like tea leaves.” Rachel pulls herself out of bed and starts pawing through her clothes for something to wear.

“I’m guessing they’ll just tell us what we already know.” Max sighs.

“That we’re beautiful?” Her fingers glide over one of Chloe’s flannels and her stomach flips before she hastily snatches a concert tee from under it.

“That we’re going to fail trig.”

***

Inhale dust and exhale tension. Stop locking up those hips. It's easy, right? Or it used to be. Everything was before. Don't think about it. Don't think about anything. Count the hoofbeats on the packed dirt. Get lost in that sound and nothing else.

Victoria takes in the distant hills, predominantly evergreen but with bare patches where the trees are missing their leaves. The fields shimmer, frost glinting in the weak light of the rising sun. She fights the urge to ride through them, put more miles between her and the bay. The far end of the arena draws her eyes again and it's just as well, there's nothing out there for her anyway.

Today she's on Holly, a lazy quarter horse who's acting like a little shit. Her gelding, Thicket, is back in Seattle at her old barn. She had begged her parents to bring him here but they forced her to lease a cranky mare at a tiny barn full of elderly women. A loss, disguised as a compromise, like everything else.

_Focus_. She counts the beats in her head. Once the rhythm is consistent, Victoria aims at an oxer and loses herself in the movement. Her body follows Holly’s instinctively, purely muscle memory. Two seconds in the air can be stretched into an eternity if she tries. When they land Victoria is already looking towards the next fence.

The drive home is peaceful, despite the distance and her aching muscles. The brain-cramping nebula of stress between her temples, is temporarily soothed by the exercise and the smell of barn: a musky but pleasant union of horse and beet pulp. Her legs throb but she smiles to herself and savors the feeling. Pain that serves a purpose is always more tolerable.

Pulling into Blackwell's lot, the stress starts creeping back in. It follows her up the stairs and down the hall to her room. It churns around her, winding through her limbs like a cat as she washes her hair. It finally pounces when she emerges from the shower stall to find herself face to face with Rachel Amber.

Rachel is leaning against the wall next to the sink where Max is brushing her teeth. She’s holding her toothbrush in one hand and a damp towel in the other, blonde hair still dripping onto the tile. She opens her mouth and Victoria braces herself for the abuse she’s been counting on for nearly a month now, but Rachel simply yawns and watches her as she moves over to the sink.

Victoria concentrates on applying her mascara. Rachel keeps boring a hole into her with stormy eyes. Max spits foam and rinses it down the drain, refusing to look at either of them. The humidity of the bathroom feels suffocating. She finishes her makeup and saunters towards the door, making sure to give Rachel the bitchiest once over she can manage this early on a Monday, though it’s pointless. Her once charismatic rival is dead-eyed and wilting lately. Max watches her leave, expression indiscernible, and Victoria feels a rare pang of guilt.

Lounging on the stoop with Taylor afterwards, Victoria finds her mind returning to Halloween. The awkward aftermath; Chloe tripping over herself and yelling after Rachel, Victoria wanting only to find her damn shirt, and Max waiting on the stairs looking shell-shocked and mumbling about a bird. The humiliation wells up as if no time has passed at all. That, along with the apathy the proximity to a four-day weekend has injected into the entire student body, makes Victoria sloppy.

"I wish I could transfer schools.”

"Why?" Taylor asks and Victoria knows that translates to _What did you do_?

“Nothing I just don’t like it here anymore. Everyone is nosey and awful to each other and I just don’t want to participate anymore.”

“Well,” Taylor says cautiously, shrinking into her hoodie, “You sort of haven’t been participating. You haven’t gone to a Vortex meeting since October and you’re the president.”

“I’ve been busy.” Victoria hisses giving Taylor a pointed look. “And I’ll remind you that I am a co-president, my _partner_ hasn’t been attending either.”

“Yeah but nobody really expects Rachel to care anymore. Not since she got all—” Taylor pulls an exaggerated face that looks like a goldfish struggling for air.

As if on cue the dorms door swings open and Max pushes through followed by a dull looking Rachel. They pass wordlessly and Taylor and Victoria watch as they cross the courtyard, Rachel stumbling along like a zombie and clinging to Max for support.

“What the hell has gotten into her?” Courtney asks, emerging from the building.

“You’ve made us late.” Victoria says grimly. She gathers her things and starts off towards school, Taylor and Courtney scrambling to follow.

“I don’t know but Sarah H told me her boyfriend like never comes around anymore and she only talks to Max.”

“Well I’m not surprised, it’s like she doesn’t care anymore. She doesn’t wear makeup, her hair is always in a ponytail, and she’s been living in that heinous sweater.”

“Maybe she really is a lesbo.”

Victoria whirls around at last. “God, will you both shut up! I don’t want to hear about her any more than I already have to. Got it?”

Taylor and Courtney exchange a look but change the subject anyway. The walk up to the doors is filled with chatter, a hundred people all talking over one another about their plans for Thursday. Oh, how she hates the holidays. Once they get inside Courtney and Taylor break away for history of art while Victoria heads to photography.

Rachel and Max are already in their seats when she walks in. She slips past them, avoiding eye contact, and settles in next to Nathan who looks like he’s still hungover from the weekend.

“Jesus Christ Nate, you smell like cheap booze and hotel bathroom cologne.”

“It’s Cristal and the Chanel cologne _you_ bought me for my birthday, you cow.” He huffs and runs his hand through his hair self-consciously. “But I might have gone too hard last night, I’m regretting it now.”

“Thanksgiving preparations?” She asks, watching Mr. Caddell carefully place a diagram of an old film camera on the projector.

“It’s days away and my dad’s already up my ass. He can’t be mad about my drinking if he’s the one driving me to it. Are you sure you can’t come for dinner?”

“Sorry, the bus to Seattle leaves Wednesday night and my parents are expecting me.”

It’s technically the truth, the bus _does_ leave Wednesday and her parents _are_ expecting her to be there. But she won’t be on that bus. She can’t stand the idea of another holiday listening to her parents bicker about money before they storm out drunk halfway through dinner. By comparison, microwaved mac and cheese and a bottle of Sangiovese in her dorm room sounds like heaven.

***

Rachel’s hand sends pens and paper flying as it scrambles for purchase on the wooden desk. Her other hand is buried in Jakes hair, keeping his head firmly between her thighs. His hand creeps up under her shirt and she has to suppress a sudden urge to swat it away. The desk creaks as her hips buck against it and it occurs to Rachel that Jake’s knees are probably killing him at this point. It also occurs to her that half the dorm is probably listening to them but there’s no point in stopping now.

Jake shifts his head, somehow managing to get a better angle than before. Rachel squeezes her eyes shut and allows a well-worn memory to play. Sitting on a different desk, a sharper tongue tracing shapes against her, the hands up her shirt still cold from sitting out on the roof. It was maybe the second time they dared touch each other, everything still new and uncertain but all the more exhilarating for it. She can almost smell the pine and cigarette smoke _. I just want you to feel good._

Sounds are flying from her mouth but she doesn't notice what they are. All she can focus on is the fire spreading through her body. When she finally opens her eyes, Jake is staring at her, a sad half-smile playing on his lips.

Rachel caresses his cheek to reassure him. "That was—thank you for that.” She hops off her desk and bends to pull her jeans back on.

He nods but his eyes are still cold. Rachel feels the anger building in her chest. She’s quick to rage lately, a symptom of withdrawal her doctor assured her last visit. The first week after Halloween was the worst of it but even now she’s overcome with waves of dizziness, nausea, anxiety, and an awful irritability that she can’t seem to shake.

“What’s wrong?"

"Chloe."

" _What?_ "

"You said her name. Well, screamed it actually."

Rachel's heart plummets, coming to rest somewhere near her appendix. She keeps her face neutral.

"Huh. I guess the argument is still on my mind." Rachel shrugs and pulls a brush, desperate to hide trembling hands. "I'm sorry, it was totally unconscious."

"Sometimes you say her name when you're asleep too."

Does she? Rachel’s dreams are flighty and absurd. She’s almost sure nothing as firm as Chloe could survive there.

"Okay, well she’s my best friend, we spend… used to spend, a lot of time together. Her name was half my vocabulary some days, the other half being 'don't touch that' or 'you’re going to electrocute yourself'. It doesn't mean anything."

Jake walks to the window, face still inscrutable. The sky outside is turning peachy in anticipation of the sun setting.

“The way you look at each other is... I notice things, okay?"

Rachel blushes and gapes before composing herself. “What are you getting at?”

“Have you guys… you know—"

“Have we fucked?” Rachel finishes his question for him.

“Have you?”

Rachel feels Jake detaching himself, feels their suburban future tearing away from her grip and she realizes that she doesn’t even care.

“Yes.”

“Before or after we got together?”

“Both.” It’s like flinging open a window, a gasp of fresh air after being trapped in a stuffy room.

“Amazing.” He sweeps past her, face contorted into something angry and wounded. “I think I should go.”

“I’m sorry, let me expl—"

“No hard feelings.” He interrupts, mouth set in a hard line. “You really should figure your shit out though, Rachel. Before you hurt anyone else.”

Rachel nods and tries to feel anything other than relief as she watches the door close behind him.

***

Around noon on Wednesday, Blackwell decends into chaos. The day before a holiday is always a bit off, people rushing in and out with packed bags, but today is especially awful. It starts when Juliet and Dana get into an argument over an article Juliet is writing for The Beacon. Normally Victoria wouldn’t care about The Beacon or anything Juliet has to say in general, but the subject matter is too personal to ignore this time.

“It’s titled: The Rapid Implosion of the Vortex Club.” Taylor informs Victoria over lunch. “Juliet wants to interview you and Rachel about why neither of you have been showing up to meetings lately. I guess Dana doesn’t think the school paper should pry into student’s private lives and they got in a massive fight about it in the library.”

“For once Dana has more brain cells than Juliet, what a shocking twist.” Victoria stabs at her oatmeal which has congealed into an inedible glue. “Well she won’t get an interview with me even if she wants one and I don’t think Rachel is feeling very talkative either.”

Taylor chews her sandwich in a noisy bovine sort of way that is just about pushing Victoria over the edge when Courtney arrives in such a rush she nearly careens into the table.

“Ohmygosh! You guys won’t believe what the environmental club is talking about. It involves _you_ Victoria.” She trills in a sing-song voice.

Victoria hates dragging information out of her. The moment Courtney senses that she holds something valuable she can’t help but play tug of war with it and Victoria refuses to give her the satisfaction. She’s learned the surest way to end the game is to refuse to play.

“How shocking.”

“Don’t you want to know what they said?”

Victoria isn't stupid. She knows what people say. Bitch. Snob. Spoiled daddy’s girl. As if her Jimmy Choo collection costs more than what those crunchy hippie idiots spend on Adderall and sailing lessons every semester. As if her daddy could give less of a fuck.

“I doubt it was anything good, so no.” Victoria yawns and pulls out her compact. The bags under her eyes are growing.

“I want to know.” Taylor pouts from across the table, undermining Victoria’s work.

“Fine.” Courtney rolls her eyes but launches into it anyway. “Apparently since the Vortex club hasn’t planned the spring fling yet, the environmental club is trying to plan it.”

“What?” Victoria snaps the compact shut. “The faculty would never entertain the idea—”

“They already have their proposal ready. Like half my chem class said they would sign up.”

“Fuck.” Victoria stands up and marches towards the door, leaving Courtney and Taylor scrambling once again to follow her. “What’s their theme going to be? Sustainable urban agriculture?”

“The theme is prom but like, ironically.”

Victoria snorts and pushes through the door, barely noticing the cold wind tugging at her scarf.

“Why am I never allowed to know peace? Not even on a holiday.”

“Where are you going?” Taylor whines from behind her, the wind carrying her voice so she sounds much further away.

“To talk to my co-president.” Victoria shouts over her shoulder. “And no, you can’t come.”

The dorms are dark and quiet when Victoria walks in. She isn’t halfway to Rachel’s door when she hears a sound from the bathrooms. Something between a gasp and a sob, the sound of it is like ice to Victoria’s spine. She pushes the door open slowly, half expecting to walk into a murder.

Rachel is slumped against the shower wall in her underwear. The water bounces off the top of her head almost comically. She’s shaking and rocking herself gently, arms tight around her knees.

“Rachel?” Victoria says cautiously. She doesn’t respond.

Rachel’s eyes have the same glazed look she’s been sporting all month. Victoria reaches through the water, which must have gone cold at least 10 minutes ago, and turns the handle until it hisses to a stop.

Victoria shakes her by the shoulders, panic creeping into her voice. “Rachel!”

Rachel squeezes her eyes shut and her teeth chatter loudly.

“What the fuck Amber, are you high?”

Rachel shakes her head no before turning away and resuming her trembling.

Victoria sighs and fishes her phone out of her bag. She opens her conversation with Nathan. _We have a problem,_ she types, _Rachel is fucked up._

Part of her wants to just walk out the bathroom door, curl up under her goose down duvet, and sleep the rest of the day away. She could do it, in fact she has done it. How many times has she walked away from Nathan, pissing himself in someone’s basement? How many times has she stepped over Zach, face-down drooling on the carpet? Why should she care if the people around her can’t control themselves? Not to mention she doesn’t even like Rachel. In fact, she hates her. Or maybe that isn’t quite true anymore.

She thinks of Rachel’s face on Halloween, when the bedroom door flew open. Shock, rage, sadness, a glimpse of the real Rachel Amber. It didn’t make Victoria like her or even feel particularly bad for her, but it did make Rachel human. Her flush face, the tremble of her lip, it was too humiliating to enjoy. The war they had been waging against each other ended there, Victoria the pyrrhic victor.

The phone in her pocket chimes.

_Ask her what she’s on_.

Victoria scoffs, Rachel’s apparently mute now so that won’t help.

_Can’t you come deal with her?_ She taps back, growing more irritated.

Victoria reminds herself that she can still walk away, leave this mess for Max or Dana or someone who gives a fuck. The idea of Max seeing Rachel like this, a drowned rat nodding out on a bathroom floor, makes her wince. Maybe she really is going soft but neither of them deserves that.

Her phone buzzes again.

_Fuck that. She doesn’t want my help. Believe me I’ve tried. Probably just withdrawal. Give her a kpin and put her to bed_.

So, Nathan is useless. What else is new. Victoria pulls a towel around Rachel’s shoulders.

“Thanks.” Rachel’s voice is small and childlike, making the hair on Victoria’s arms stand up.

“You want me to get Max?”

Rachel nods.

Relieved to pass the problem onto someone else Victoria half-runs to Max’s room. She answers, bleary-eyed and startled, after what feels like a solid minute of knocking.

“Wha—”

Victoria grabs her by the wrist and yanks her into the hall “Hurry up, it’s urgent. Were you asleep?”

“No. Well maybe… I think I fell asleep on my study guide.”

“That explains the pen all over your cheek.” Victoria says, prompting Max to use her thumb to smudge the ink down her face, creating what looks like a patchy side burn.

Rachel is exactly where Victoria left her, still curled into a ball but no longer rocking.

“Oh!” Max rushes past Victoria and bends to Rachel’s level. “Another panic attack?”

Rachel nods and takes a gasping breath that sounds like a sob.

“Sometimes she can’t speak when it happens.” Max says gesturing for her to help Rachel up. Victoria slides a hand under Rachels arm, trying to remember the last time she had actually touched her. “Will you help me get her to my room? People are going to get back from lunch soon.”

“Half of them are already at the bus station, only like four people are coming back here.” Even as she makes the excuse, she realizes she doesn’t have a choice, it’s difficult to say no to Max now. Her big doe eyes command a certain level of respect for reasons Victoria can’t quite grasp. “Okay, fine.”

Rachel takes an unbalanced step forward.

“I don’t get it, is she drunk?”

“She gets dizzy when they’re bad.” Max looks so determined, but the teeth dragging over her bottom lip betray her and Victoria sees that she’s scared.

Rachel lifts a hand to her head and scrubs it as if trying to shake the feeling out of herself. “I’m so _fucking_ sick of this.” Her voice breaks and Victoria can hear her starting to cry. It’s Halloween all over again; Max’s mouth tugging into a frown, Rachel’s face falling in on itself, and Victoria an unwelcome witness, an interloper.

Most of Blackwell’s students are falling apart lately, the pressure of finals and college applications setting in, but seeing Rachel like this is something else entirely. Rachel is super-human. Rachel does not break.

“How do we make it stop?” Victoria asks.

“We can’t. We can help though.”

They get her into Max’s room and help her onto the unmade bed. Victoria watches Max grasp Rachel’s hand and squeeze.

“Do you feel me holding your hand?”

Rachel nods.

“Can you name some things in the room?”

“Lights. Photographs. Lisa.” Rachel’s breathing seems normal again though her hands are still shaking.

“Who’s Lisa?” Victoria blurts out before she can stop herself.

“My plant.” Max says smiling.

“Oh, that’s… interesting.”

Rachel’s teeth chatter and Victoria watches her tense as her body begins to tremble.

“Do you need your meds? I can run over to your room.”

“Already took them.” Rachel’s voice is stronger now.

“What about tea? Would that help?”

Rachel shrugs and nods, looking a bit humiliated.

“Victoria can you stay a minute?” Max asks, already halfway through the door.

“Um, sure.”

Once the door closes Victoria busies herself looking around the room. A guitar next to the couch catches her eye. Interesting. She wouldn’t have guessed Max for a musician.

“Thank you for helping me.” Rachel’s voice is low but her teeth have stopped chattering.

“I didn’t know it was this bad.” Victoria keeps her eyes low feeling sheepish. “You’re like, actually sick.” _And I made fun of you for it._

“It’s getting better lately.”

“That’s… that’s really good.”

There’s another silence broken only by the sound of the wind ripping through campus outside. The seal on Max’s window wasn’t very good, it makes a faint whistling sound every time the wind picks up.

“Why do you hate me?” Rachel asks suddenly.

Victoria balks at the question.

“I-- I don’t. I know we’ve had some, you know, banter over the years but—"

“Why Chloe then?”

Max is certainly taking her time.

“I just…” Victoria sighs, unable to avoid the question and strangely unwilling to lie. “You moved here and you took everything; Nathan, the Vortex club, the lead in every play. I wanted to take something of yours I guess.”

“Just don’t hurt her, okay?” Rachel says coolly. “If you do, I’ll break all of your fingers _and_ your nose.”

Victoria looks anxiously at the doorway hoping Max will appear before Rachel fully regains her strength. “It was a one-time thing. I could tell she wasn’t really into it anyways. The look on her face when you opened the door…”

Rachel grimaces. “So you haven’t seen her?”

“Not since Halloween.” Victoria keeps her eye’s trained on the window, away from Rachel’s intense gaze. The whistling was getting even louder, It’s a wonder Max hasn’t gone insane living like this. “I take it you haven’t either?”

“No.” Rachel says, a bit haughty. “Max hangs with her but we don’t really talk about it.”

The door opens and Max enters holding a mug with the word _catitude_ surrounded by calicos in one hand and some of Rachel’s clothes in the other.

“Okay, it’s caffeine free. Don’t let me catch you drinking coffee later.” She says giving Rachel a stern look.

“It’s not even dark yet Max.” Rachel complains, pulling her sweater on over the wet bra.

“No caffeine after lunch, no exceptions.”

Victoria clears her throat and stands up. “Before I leave, I was wondering if you wanted to call a Vortex meeting. The environmental club has this idea that they’re going to plan the spring fling this year.”

“What?” Rachel yelps, startling Max. “What’s the theme?”

“Ironic prom.” Victoria’s voice is dripping contempt.

“Ugh.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Max asks earnestly. “It sounds fun.”

Rachel and Victoria exchange a look.

“Nothing it’s just kind of…”

“Mediocre.” Victoria offers.

“We’ll set up a meeting next week.” Rachel is sitting up straight, looking as poised and collected as she always does. As if she hadn’t been catatonic in the shower ten minutes ago.

“Okay. I’ll email everyone Monday.”

Victoria steps into the hall feeling adrift. By the time she’s at the stairwell her throat is aching in a peculiar way. Isn’t even past the first step when the tears start. _Pathetic._ She sits on the stairs and tries to calm herself down.

“Are you okay?”

Victoria startles and whips her head around to see Max standing in the doorway.

“Jesus, don’t sneak up on people Maxine.”

“Ugh, no Maxine. Just Max.” Max walks over and sits next to her. “You were really good for all of that. Thank you.”

“Yeah well I figured it’s my mess, I should help clean it up.” Victoria says thickly. A fat tear rolls and splats onto her sweater, staining the cashmere mascara black.

“You think this is your fault? Victoria, no.” Max sighs and reaches out, holding Victoria’s hand and squeezing gently, like she’d done with Rachel. “All of this was set into motion ages ago. Rachel was taking those pills for anxiety, not because you drove her to it.”

“Fine maybe that’s different, but everything with Chloe—”

The sound of the metal door opening downstairs stops her. Max pulls her hand away and Victoria finds herself unexpectedly mourning the loss of contact. They wait until the group of chattering underclassmen passes. Once the door is closed Max turns back to her.

“Chloe and Rachel have been headed towards this for years. You just fanned the flames a bit.”

“I still feel awful.” Victoria sniffs and stares at her shoes. “I’ve been acting like a total monster lately.”

Max smiles and again laces her fingers through Victoria’s who is too relieved to do anything other than gently squeeze them. _She does this with Rachel and Dana and Kate_ she reminds herself.

“You haven’t been a monster,” Max says cheerily, “but you have been a bitchier than usual. Is something going on?”

Victoria laughs and draws herself up giving Max’s hand another squeeze before pulling hers away to wipe the mascara tracks off her cheeks.

“My parents told me they won’t let me go to the east coast for school. They want me to go to UW so I can help them with the gallery on the weekends. All they care about is molding me into their perfect little curator. I know it seems petty but I just feel so… trapped.”

“I don’t think it’s petty, your feelings are valid but maybe you could react a bit differently.” Max looks pensive. “You know, you and Rachel actually have a lot in common, especially in the parent department. Which reminds me I should probably get back to her.”

Max stands up and Victoria follows suit, brushing off the seat of her skirt and hoping she didn’t somehow ruin the suede on the nasty concrete steps.

“Wait.” Victoria grabs Max by the wrist. “Why aren’t you on your way to the busses? Your parents are in Seattle right?”

Max’s ears go pink at the edges. “Oh, I decided to just stay here. I have a lot of studying to catch up on so I’ll probably just grab something from the caf and hang around the dorms. Besides I’ll go home for Christmas break.”

“Well you can’t just eat ramen alone on Thanksgiving, it’s… it’s tacky. Come have dinner with me tomorrow. I have a really nice bottle of wine.”

Max looks completely bewildered but not necessarily unwilling.

“Um, yeah that sounds nice.”

“Wonderful, see you then.” Victoria chirps and sets off down the stairs before Max can change her mind.

“Okay, see you then.” Max calls after her and Victoria doesn’t even have to look back to know she’s smiling when she says it.


	9. Break the Chain

“Chloe!”

Rachel’s voice cuts through the fog in Chloe’s mind. Sharp, insistent, like finding a knife in murky dishwater. Chloe shifts away from it, hoping to sink back into the dream she was yanked out of.

“ _Wake up_.”

It’s dark in her room and she can’t make out where the voice is coming from. The mattress under her is wet and cold, the bottle clutched in her hand is nearly empty. She groans and tries to sit up, only managing to raise herself onto an elbow.

“Rach?” She croaks. Her mouth tastes like cheap beer and cigarettes that aren’t her brand.

“Fuck Chloe, you sleep like the dead. I’ve been trying to wake you up for like five minutes.”

Chloe squints into the far corner of her room and tries to make out shapes in the darkness. The lights on her stereo are blurring in and out of focus making it impossible to read the time. Her head throbs along with it. Earlier the alcohol had felt like her salvation, a reprieve. Now, vulnerable in the dark and feeling like a wrung-out sponge, it’s lost its appeal.

“Please let me in, it’s fucking cold.” Rachel’s voice draws her attention away from the hi-fi.

Rachel is crouching on the roof outside the window waving a gloved hand, the pompom on her hat wagging merrily. It’s unfair, the way she manages to only look cuter the more ridiculous her outfit is.

“Uh, I can’t.” Chloe says, rolling off the bed and lurching toward the window.

“Please. I know you’re mad at me but I need to talk to you.” Rachel’s voice shakes, with emotion or cold or maybe both. “I don’t want to leave things like this.”

“No, I mean I literally can’t. David nailed it so it doesn’t open all the way.” Chloe kneels so that her face is level with the gap under the glass and Rachel does the same. “He’s probably going to put a deadbolt on the other side of the door soon.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a fire hazard.”

“You would know, pyro. Speaking of…” Chloe yawns and drags her coat off the back of her desk chair. She rubs a thumb over a lipstick stain on the collar, although it’s probably too dark for Rachel to notice it. With her other hand she fishes out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a long drag before passing it to Rachel.

Rachel grabs the cigarette and stares at it for a second before wrinkling her nose.

“Virginia Slims? Jesus Christ.”

Of course, nothing gets past detective Amber. It’s stupid, not wanting Rachel to know what she’s been doing, especially after being caught knuckle deep in Victoria. Yet there it is, that odd twinge of guilt when Rachel hands the cigarette back without taking a drag.

“What? Someone left them in the truck, I’m not going to waste them.” Chloe cocks an eyebrow and plasters on an arrogant grin but still manages to sound a little defensive.

“Did you pick her up at the nursing home? Really Chloe, nobody under 80 smokes these.” Rachel sounds like she’s joking, sort of, but her eyes keep moving from the cigarette to the bottles next to Chloe’s bed.

“Let she who hasn’t fucked a Waffle Stop waitress cast the first stone.” Chloe says, suddenly irritable. It isn’t technically true, but with any luck it’s convincing enough to prevent Rachel from launching into a full interrogation. “Do you want me to tell you where she let me put the syrup—"

“Disgusting.”

“Yet you can’t stay away.” Chloe expects an eyeroll but Rachel just looks nervous, fingers picking away at her cuticles. “Right. So...”

Rachel clears her throat and slides her gloves off before taking hold of Chloe’s hands across the windowsill.

“I know I’ve been a shitty friend lately. I know I try too hard to be perfect and then still fuck up, like, all the time. I lied to you and to myself a lot this year—"

“It’s okay Rachel.” Chloe doesn’t really care about the apology. Maybe she _did_ , she wouldn’t have called Rachel after Halloween if she didn’t, but it’s been lonely without her and she would rather just skip to the part where they’re sharing spliffs in the bed of her truck again.

“No, it’s not actually.” Rachel looks at her and even though her face is tinged blue with the stark light of the moon, Chloe can see the blush rising. “Chlo, let me finish,” she pleads, wetting her lips nervously, “I’ve been making shitty choices and pushing you out and I’m so sorry. Things will be different this time. I’ll be different. Will you please let me make it up to you?”

So, here they are again. Whatever. They’ve been through this cycle of anger and forgiveness a hundred times before. Scream, repent, rinse, repeat, until they’re both threadbare. How many times had she called Rachel in the small hours of the morning, drunk and begging? How many times had Rachel climbed through her window, smelling of bonfire and whiskey, bruising her lips with kisses and apologies? How much more can they really take before it falls apart at the seams?

“Yeah but,” Chloe brushes a thumb over the top of the lighter in her pocket like a talisman, “we have to be friends. Like _just_ friends. For real this time.”

The words twist out of her sounding small and flat. Chloe rocks back on her heels, a cat dropping an eviscerated corpse in the middle of the living room, secretly hoping for some kind of protest. The proposal flops at Rachel’s feet, a smelly dying mess that they’ve been tip-toeing around for years now.

Rachel’s expression wavers, but just slightly. Slight enough that Chloe can dismiss it as a trick of the light or lack thereof.

“Sure.” Rachel says, breath fogging up the glass. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” Chloe says. _It has to be._

“I’m still going to do something to make it up to you. You can choose anything at all.”

It’s unnecessary at this point and Rachel must know it. Chloe’s forgiveness was as good as hers the second she climbed the drainpipe. Despite the rebellion and the skateboard and the don’t-fuck-with-me glower, Chloe always folds for her.

“Anything?” Chloe forces a grin, tries to twist it into something wicked. There’s no real feeling behind it now but it still seems like the right thing to do, hide behind mischief and innuendo.

“Anything. I just want you to be happy.”

“I’ll think about it.”

There’s a long whistle followed by bang and a flash. Chloe watches red and gold light wash over Rachel’s face. Her bunny slope nose casts a solemn shadow on her cheek. The fireworks make a thought bubble forth from the back of Chloe’s mind.

“Hey, why aren’t you at Nathan’s party? You always go.”

“I’m kind of over it. It’s the same thing every year.” Rachel shrugs. “Besides, Max is still away for break and you’re in here… I would have been bored out of my mind.”

“Well… I’m glad you ditched.”

“Me too.” Rachel grins and leans closer to the glass. “Hey want to be my midnight kiss? We still have like 20 seconds.”

Chloe’s about to ask how when Rachel holds up her first two fingers suggestively. She brings them to her lips and gives them a theatrically wet kiss before sliding them under the window. Chloe snorts and rolls her eyes but kisses her fingers and pushes them against Rachel’s.

“Happy new year, Priceless.”

“How was that somehow the gayest thing we’ve ever done when I’ve literally had my mouth around your—”

“Don’t remind me,” Rachel groans, low and achingly coy, “if you want this platonic friendship thing to work, I mean.”

That voice this late at night is almost enough to make Chloe change her mind, and rip the nails out of the window with her teeth to prove it. Almost.

“Ahh, right. I’ll have to adjust.”

“We have plenty of time for that. Good night Chlo.” Rachel backs away towards the drain-pipe. “Also, clean your room. It smells like a frat house.”

“You would know.” She throws back instinctively, but Rachel doesn’t hear it. The top of her ridiculous hat is already disappearing beyond the edge of the gutter, leaving Chloe feeling much too sober.

***

The first week of the new year drags by with the same monotony as the last. By Friday she’s ready to fake her own death if that’s what it takes to get her out from under David’s thumb. As it turns out, all it really takes is a crowbar and patience.

Getting the nails out of the window frame proves to be much more difficult than it looks. The nails are longer than she’d thought and every time she manages to get some real leverage the crowbar slips and she winds up with a fresh bruise. She’s working on the second nail and the third bruise when there’s an ominous creak outside her door. She stays frozen, crowbar resting against the sill, until the creaks culminate in a door closing across the hall. Finally, the nail slides out and she flings the window open, maybe too forcefully by the sound it makes.

Chloe’s heart is in her throat as she makes her way down the drainpipe. There’s an awful scraping sound and suddenly the ground is hurling itself towards her. She hits the untrimmed juniper shrub with enough force to knock the air out of her lungs. From within the bush she takes inventory of her body, wiggling fingers and toes and wrists and ankles and finally her neck when everything else seems to be in order. Her mouth is full of blood that she can’t recall the origin of. She spits it as she rolls onto the cold packed dirt. Pushing through the burning in her chest and the stinging scratches up her arms, she walks gingerly toward the driveway.

The truck door grinds open loudly and Chloe decides that closing it after her would be too risky. Instead she leaves it to hang open as she puts the truck in neutral and lets it roll out of the driveway. Once she’s a house away and the truck refuses to roll any further, she slams it closed and starts the engine. The sound of the old beater is loud and distinct enough to possibly wake up David or her mother, but at least she’ll have a head start if they do.

The drive is cold but Chloe doesn’t care. She drives twenty over and rolls the windows down, heat and music blasting. It smells like winter, smokey and clean, and she wants to bathe in it. It feels so good to drive, to have control and freedom after weeks of captivity. Part of her wants to miss the turn, keep going till she hits the highway, see how many miles she can get between her and the bay before the truck gives up on her. Instead she makes a left at the sign that says Blackwell Academy Student Parking.

Campus is cold and dead when she arrives, the parking lot contains exactly three cars. Technically the dorms reopen the Friday before classes start again but most people don’t come home until Sunday, which means Blackwell is nearly empty and even creepier than usual. The walk to the dorms takes her past the totem pole, wound tightly with a multitude of scarves, like it is every winter. It’s a tradition, cheerfully mundane and oh so Blackwell. This year there’s a hat on the top and the implied athleticism involved in getting it there is at least mildly impressive. Anything to stave off the oppressive boredom of winter dorm life which, according to both Rachel and Max, revolves almost entirely around ordering take-out and worshipping space heaters.

The handful of pebbles Chloe launches at Rachel’s window fall short and come raining down on her. _Sticks and stones_ , she thinks as the rocks patter over her scratched arms _, both hurt like a bitch._ She spots a small chunk of brick jutting from the walkway.

There’s the distinct sound of shattering glass as the brick sails directly through the bottom left pane of the window and into Rachel’s bedroom. Chloe sucks in air through her teeth. A light appears in the window. Rachel yanks it open, splinters of glass falling dangerously close to Chloe’s face.

“Chloe?”

“Hey.”

“What the hell?”

Chloe sighs, blowing a puff of breath into the night air. “Uh, sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“You threw a brick at my window, what did you think would happen?”

“Come down here and I’ll tell you.”

“It’s cold out there. You come up here!” Rachel says looking reasonably pissed about the property damage but also like she might be swayed with the right words.

“It’s going to be cold in there soon, what with the gaping hole. Come on, I wanna go for a walk.”

Rachel closes the window without answering and walks out of view. Chloe shifts her weight uneasily and staves off the urge to fish a cigarette out of her jacket. A few minutes later, Rachel pushes through the side door wearing a coat over her pajamas.

“What happened to you?” Rachel looks her over carefully, eyes widening at the scratches on her hands and what feels suspiciously like dried blood on her cheek. “Chloe, you’re hurt.”

Rachel’s fingers brush the wound on her cheekbone before drifting lower, following the line of her jaw to her chin.

“That’s my shirt.” Chloe feels compelled to say something, to fill the silence.

“What?” Rachel scoffs looking down at the Firewalk symbol. “No, this one’s mine, you got the one with their old design. The fish in the coffee pot.”

Chloe pokes a finger through the burn hole next to the collar and wriggles it around for emphasis.

“I did this the first time I wore it. You said it looked more authentic, remember?” Rachel’s skin raises into goosebumps at her touch. Chloe shifts her gaze. “It’s okay, you can keep it.”

Rachel laughs, “Wow, thanks for letting me continue to own _my_ shirt.”

They walk towards the school with the wind to their backs, ushering them through campus.

“Wells is going to kill me over that window.”

“You’re Vortex club royalty, can’t you pull strings or whatever?”

“Ah yes, the Vortex club… We had a meeting about the Spring Fling last month. I sat there listening to a bunch of spoiled rich kids arguing over themes and budgets and it just hit me that I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to spend the time I have left here worrying about what color balloons to order. I want to actually attend the dance instead of getting trapped overseeing the snack table.” Rachel exhales, her face serene. “So, I resigned.”

“You _what?_ ”

“I resigned. Queen V is officially the queen bee.” Rachel shrugs. “The reason I joined the club in the first place was because it looked good on my transcript but those have already been sent out, so I’m done.”

“Well shit. I just— wow. I don’t even know what to say, I need time to process this. Wait, are we still invited to the parties or—"

Footsteps echo from around the corner, heavy and slow. Chloe pulls Rachel through the shrubs lining the path and the crouch against the low brick wall.

“Can you see who it is?” Rachel asks, much too loud for how close the person is.

Chloe shushes her and cups a hand over her mouth. They listen, only the sound of the wind and the footfalls getting closer and finally receding in the opposite direction. Rachel snorts a small exhilarated laugh into Chloe’s palm before licking it.

“Gross!” Chloe wipes the spit on Rachel’s coat and they wrestle for a moment, each trying to use the other for support when they stand up. They finally emerge from the bushes, all tangled limbs and wide smiles and hot cheeks.

As they make their way across campus, shushing each other before breaking into fits of laughter, it feels exactly how it used to. Back when things were only complicated in Chloe’s mind.

The rec building is not very difficult to break into, especially for someone who has done it at least a dozen times now. Still, it makes Chloe feel like a spy or a ninja. She jumps from the dumpster to the shed roof and wiggles the latch on the changing room window until it gives. It’s pitch black but she knows this route as well as she knows the one from her fridge to her bedroom; which is to say she could do it blindfolded and hopping one leg in under a minute if she really wanted to. Chloe lowers herself down from the high window ledge first and waits for Rachel, who nearly lands on her.

They follow the stench of chlorine to the pool. It’s eerily lit, water glowing turquoise and casting webs of blue light across everything. Outside the windows, the trees appear to be shaking with rage, forced to watch their delinquency but powerless to stop it. A branch scrapes its stiff kindling fingers across the glass and a shiver runs up Chloe’s spine.

“Hey, does this make you uncomfortable?”

Chloe turns around to find Rachel wearing only her underwear, a modest arm slung across her breasts. Immediately Chloe’s eyes dart anywhere else.

“I mean I was in bed; I don’t wear a bra to bed.” Rachel continues, trying to read her. “I can keep my shirt on if—”

“Don’t be crazy, I’ve seen your tits more than I’ve seen my own.” It’s true and yet Chloe can feel her blood thrumming low in her hips when Rachel lets her arm swing to her side with a shrug. She swallows roughly and coughs. “You can skinny dip for all I care.”

“ _Really?_ ”

Chloe trains her eyes on the pool, trying to find something mundane to do like count the filters. It’s too easy for Rachel to call her bluff, for this whole night to turn into another mistake for them to sloppily bury and never fully move past.

“Yeah, I mean it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” Chloe risks a glance, just to see if her words dent Rachel’s pride. It’s a mistake.

Rachel is stark naked, hands on her hips, pride (and everything else) seemingly intact. Chloe focuses on her eyes, vowing to ignore the untanned flesh in her peripheral. _Just friends,_ she reminds herself, _for real this time._

“Aren’t you going to join me?” Rachel looks expectant, giving nothing away with the soft line of her mouth.

“Yeah.”

Chloe pulls her shirt and jeans off and tosses them in the general direction of Rachel’s neat stack of clothes. Rachel watches her struggle with the clasp on her bra for a moment, eyes gleaming, but doesn’t offer to help. Once it’s off, her eyes remain firmly on Chloe’s breasts; which is well enough because at least she won’t notice the blush rising in Chloe’s cheeks. She leaves her underwear on.

The pool is bathwater warm. The chlorine works its way into every scratch in her arms and she can practically smell it stripping the blue from her hair. Rachel floats next to her, staring up at the industrial spiderweb of metal crossing the ceiling and kicking lazily in a circle.

“It’s weird, the first time we did this we were so nervous.” Rachel’s voice is casual but there’s a breathy lilt that lights Chloe’s face on fire. “Or I was anyway.”

Chloe remembers. She had slept over at Rachel’s because her house was closer to campus, a nine-minute bike ride to be exact, seven when they were hopped up on adrenalin and vodka redbulls.

“I was nervous too.” Chloe says, more to herself than to Rachel. She closes her eyes and imagines that she’s fourteen again and still discovering what it feels like to be drunk and in love for the first time. “I was sure we were going to get caught.”

“Hmm.” Rachel purrs about an inch from her ear. Chloe keeps her eyes closed and pretends not to notice her nipples rising at the sound of it. “I was nervous for other reasons.” Rachel’s tone is past coy, it’s devolved into something plainly hungry.

_Why now?_ Chloe wants to scream. Part of her already knows the answer though. The moment one of them starts to push the other will pull, the Earth and the moon, locked in orbit and never getting any closer.

Chloe opens her eyes and Rachel is already halfway across the pool, swimming low and silent under the water. She pops up for air at the far end before taking another breath and kicking off the wall, back towards Chloe. When she bobs up next to her again, hair slicked back and water drops caught in her lashes, Chloe blurts out “I heard you broke up with Jake” which is, incidentally, something she has been trying not to say.

“I did.”

“I’m sorry. Well, not _sorry_ really but you know…” Rachel cocks an eyebrow, Chloe wants to drown herself. “Anyways what happened?”

“I decided to be honest with myself about what I want.” Rachel says with a guarded smile. “Well that, and I told him about us.”

“Us.” Chloe parrots back, dumbfounded. “What about us?”

“What do you think?”

“Okay,” Chloe runs a hand through her hair, pushes it through when it gets tangled in the ends, “but why?”

“Like I said, I decided to be honest.”

There’s only five feet of space between them and it’s nothing, transparent water and bare skin. Chloe knows she could close the distance, pull their bodies together, feel Rachel’s teeth on her shoulder.

She takes a step back.

“Ah, speaking of honesty,” Chloe grapples for a segue “I’m sorry for all that shit I said on the phone.”

Rachel’s shoulders drop tugging her mouth down with them. It’s only an instant, a short stumble before she collects herself and pushes on like nothing’s happened.

“Don’t be sorry. It was important for you to say it. And also for me to hear it.” A huge gust of wind rattles the building, the tree limbs scratching even more frantically at the glass. “But just so you know, you were dead wrong about one thing. I won’t forget about you when I’m at college, I promise.”

“Even if you did, I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

“Chloe, no. We’re going to figure something out. We always do.” Rachel bites her lip like she wants to say more but instead she ducks back under the water and swims back towards the deep end.

***

Rachel gets to the shop fifteen minutes before the end of Chole’s shift. Steph is sitting rather precariously at the top of a ladder, attempting to patch a hole in the ceiling, when she comes barreling in. The door whacks the ladder hard enough to give it a good rattle.

“Hey!” Steph protests and clings to the wobbling metal frame. “Bull, meet china shop.”

“Sorry Steph! It’s good to see you though.” Rachel says with an angelic wink that almost always gets her a blush and a grin. Today Steph just rolls her eyes and continues looking sour.

Chloe hops over the counter and meets her next to the candle display. Rachel’s wearing a sweatshirt roughly three sizes too big and her hair is piled on top of her head in a haphazard sort of way. It would be a bad look on anyone else but on Rachel it somehow works in an off-duty model sort of way. Chloe pulls her into an easy hug, the way she always does, but this time it leaves her feeling breathless.

“Is Steph okay?” Rachel whispers.

“She will be. Her and Becca are off again, but it won’t last. They always get back together in less than a week.” Chloe grins. “I’m almost done here, just have to do mid-day count.”

“That’s okay, I know I’m early but I couldn’t—” Rachel stops and glances over Chloe’s shoulder looking puzzled. “Who is that?”

Chloe turns just in time to watch the slender brunette emerging from the stock room drop the boxes she was balancing. The girl cusses and growls in frustration.

Chloe jogs over and grabs the box, which honestly isn’t so heavy, and sets it down next to the candle display. “Sylvia, just ask for help if you can’t lift something.”

“Sorry, you looked busy.” Sylvia says with a hint of bitterness that Chloe chooses to ignore for now.

Rachel struts over with her best diplomatic smile tacked on.

“Wait, did the owner actually agree to hire someone else?” Rachel asks Chloe.

“Yeah, Steph drew a hard line. And by that, I mean she kept agreeing to more and more overtime while I bravely advocated for our rights to Sharon.” Chloe says ripping into the box with her pocketknife.

“ _Advocated._ You threatened to walk out!” Steph chides from across the store.

“Whatever, it worked.” Chloe shrugs. “Anyways, Rachel this is Sylvia.”

Rachel turns back to the brunette, “Nice to meet you Sylvia, I’m—”

“Rachel Amber.” Sylvia finishes for her, giving her a once over. “Yeah, everyone kind of knows who you are.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Rachel chuckles lightly but looks a bit distressed. Chloe mulls over the idea of intervening but decides to let this play out. “Do you go to Blackwell?”

“Ah no, I wish. Boring old community college for me.” Sylvia’s tone is playful but the way she looks at Rachel’s watch makes it clear that she has distinct opinions of private school kids.

“Well Blackwell isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, trust me.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Sylvia’s eyes drift to Chloe. “Those Vortex club zombies sound miserable.”

Steph drops something and cusses which, thankfully, prompts Sylvia to go scurrying over to help.

“Thank you for being nice.” Chloe breathes in Rachel’s ear once they’re back near the register. “She’s… shy.”

“Ah shy, of course. I might have said bitchy but shy works too.” Rachel whispers back, clearly relishing the little puff of air that Chloe exhales when her lip brushes over her ear lobe. ”And I’m always nice.”

“Is that so?” Chloe asks turning away so Rachel won’t see her blush.

“It is. For example, I’ll dye your hair for you tonight.” Rachel says running her fingers through the faded turquoise. “The pool really did a number on it.”

“Technically I’m still grounded until tomorrow.”

“Oh whatever. I’ll work my magic on Joyce.” Rachel says flipping her hair with flourish.

“You’re welcome to try but keep in mind, cleavage doesn’t work on Joyce.” Chloe says bumping the register closed with her hip. “Okay, let’s go fetch us a Max.”

The diner is full of freshly returned Blackwell students when they arrive, shedding coats and stamping wet boot-marks into the doormat. They scan the crowd for Max, who is apparently running even later than them. Chloe drops into her usual spot by the window and Rachel, instead of taking her spot on the opposite side of the table, tucks in next to her. Joyce is passing waffles to a table of rowdy looking boys so an old woman named Marnie takes their order; black coffee for Rachel, a syrupy latte for Chloe, and waffles for Max, whenever she arrives.

“So at the risk of ruining everything, can I ask you a question?”

“Not including that one?” Being a smartass usually works to cover her nerves but Chloe knows Rachel will pick up on the worry anyways. “Sure.”

“Those granny smokes from your jacket the other night… They were Sylvia’s right?”

“How the fuck—”

“She smelled like menthol and couldn’t keep her eyes off you.” Rachel sighs.

“You’re seriously going to school for the wrong thing.” Chloe says incredulously. “You should be solving murders.”

“Maybe I should be but at this point I refuse to pursue a real career because it would make my dad way too happy.” Rachel gives a halfhearted smile and a shrug. “So, is it serious?”

“What?” Chloe snorts. “Rachel, no.”

“No?”

“No. We made out once, she got all weird and clingy and I bailed. She’s… not my type.”

“Interesting.” Rachel is trying to sound unaffected but the corner of her mouth keeps twitching. “So, what _is_ your type anyway?”

“Why do you care?” Chloe asks, grabbing the container of sugar packets and beginning to arrange them into pyramids.

“It’s just that between Sylvia and Victoria, I’m just starting to feel like your type is anyone who hates my guts.”

“What’s your type, Rach?” Chloe asks, temper flaring and coloring her cheeks. “Disposable pretty boys with as much personality as a pack of saltine crackers?”

“Touché.” Rachel says with a smile mysterious enough to sap Chloe’s anger. “I wonder why I do that.”

Joyce suddenly descends on their table with steaming mugs and a plate of waffles.

“Rachel! I was wondering when I would see you around here again.” Joyce says, squeezing Rachel’s shoulder. “We restocked that apple butter you like.”

“Oh, I’m glad to hear it!” Rachel says flashing her the smile she reserves for policemen and school administrators. “Actually, I was hoping you’d be here. See Chloe needs help dying her hair and I thought maybe I could come by tonight and do it.”

“Did Chloe tell you that she’s grounded?”

“She might have mentioned something about it.” Rachel’s tone is conspiratorial. “I was hoping you might make an exception. I mean just look at her hair.” Chloe pulls her beanie down further and gives Rachel the finger.

“Alright, fine.” Joyce says trying to hide her smile. “But only because I’m sick of that green. It’s starting to make me seasick.”

“Hey!” Chloe whines.

Joyce gives Rachel’s arm another squeeze before heading back toward the kitchen. Rachel turns to Chloe and winks. “See? No cleavage necessary.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

There’s a sudden gust of cold air as the front door opens and Chloe can hear Joyce fussing over whoever is walking in, so it’s not much of a shock when Max’s voice carries over to them. Chloe twists around in her seat and waves Max over.

“Chloe! I’m sorry I’m late, Kate needed help finding her bags—”

Max comes to an abrupt stop in front of the table. She whips her head around to Rachel, a wide grin splitting her face.

“Hey you.” Rachel says with a wink.

“You made up!” Max exclaims cheerfully, taking the seat across from Chloe. “And you ordered waffles for me? I must be dreaming.”

Chloe reaches across the table and pinches Max’s arm.

“Ow!”

“Nope, not dreaming.” Chloe grins and ducks when Max blows her straw wrapper in her direction.

“Where’s Kate?” Rachel asks, scanning the crowd around the counter.

“She took the shuttle up to campus. Rabbits don’t do well in crowded diners.” Max pours a generous amount of syrup over her waffles before cutting into them. “She sends her love though.”

The bell over the door jingles again, followed by the sound of a dozen squelching, stomping boots. Max waves over at the fresh crowd of teens gathered around the door. Chloe watches Dana tear herself away from the throng with Juliet in tow. “Room for two more?” She says breathlessly when they get to the table.

“Dana! Baby I’ve missed you.” Rachel says scooting over so Dana can sit. Juliet takes the seat next to Max and gives Chloe a friendly hello looking much more relaxed than usual.

“I want to know all the hot gossip about your cousin.” Rachel’s saying to Dana.

“Oh Marie? She’s pregnant _again._ ”

Through the overlapping conversations and laughter and coffee steam, Max catches Chloe’s eye. She flashes her a subtle thumbs up and then a thumbs down, a question. Chloe gives her a grin and a thumbs up in return.

***

“You need to stop wiggling.” Rachel scolds, yanking Chloe’s hair with a gloved hand. “Every time you move, I get dye all over your neck.”

“I can’t help it.” Chloe whines. She’s curled in the space between the bath and the toilet, shoulders braced against Rachel’s knees. “My legs aren’t supposed to bend like this.”

Rachel gives the back of Chloe’s head another good yank as she smacks more dye on. They had tried a dye brush the first time, years ago, but Chloe doesn’t have the patience for that sort of steady precision anymore. She feels a glob slide down the back of her neck, Rachel’s finger in hot pursuit.

“This is a mess, maybe we should have just waited for you to be ungrounded and done it in the dorm showers like last time.”

“I like this. It’s like old times. Plus being home is actually okay when you and Max are here.” Chloe scrubs at a speck of blue on her jeans.

“To be fair, Max is barely here. She’s drooling on your pillow.” Rachel pulls a plastic bag over Chloe’s hair, making it into a sort of shower cap. “I can’t believe she fell asleep that quickly, the sun’s still up.”

“It’s like a five-hour bus ride from Seattle. We should let her sleep till it’s time for you guys to go back.” Chloe says finally twisting around and stretching her legs out. With her back against the tub she can almost tap the opposite wall with her shoe.

“I like this too. I’ve missed it.” The toilet lid creaks when Rachel slides off and settles herself between Chloe’s legs so that they’re facing each other. It sparks warmth spreading through her body, making her grin. It’s been so long since it’s felt this easy between them. That causal sort of intimacy that they’ve always had was missing for months but here it is and Chloe feels good, feels safe. “Your neck is going to be blue for a few days though.”

“That’s okay. It’s worth it.” Chloe shifts to rest her chin on Rachel’s knee. “Plus, your wrist is stained so I’d say were even.”

Rachel twists her arm to look at the patch of color. “Huh. Well that’s alright. One day we’ll perfect this process. We’ll get it down to an art. Eventually.”

“Yeah, I think we will.”


	10. And I'll Keep Burning This Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not the happiest with this chapter, my depression has really been kicking my ass lately and it's hard to write or do anything creative or even get out of bed honestly. One thing worth celebrating: I'm officially adding a Chasefield tag! Woo!

“We should go outside.”

Max grunts in acknowledgement, but keeps her nose firmly in her history textbook.

“Earth to Max.” Rachel snaps her own textbook closed. “I am so incredibly bored. Come on let’s go do something.”

“Rachel, I need to study before I fail.”

“You have a B so that’s not likely, and just look out the window.” Rachel twists the blinds open further, letting in broad slants of lights. They’ve been in the library since eleven and if Max is honest, it’s starting to feel like a tomb. “It’s warm. It’s not raining for once. It’s Friday. We can’t let this opportunity slip through our fingers.” She balls her hands into fists for emphasis.

Max sighs and closes her book. “Alright, fine. But we have to really study tomorrow.”

They burst through the front doors of the school, taking the steps in a single bound, Max dragging along like a kite in Rachel’s wake. There’s a cool breeze but the sunlight is shockingly warm. Students are stretched out all over the lawn and sidewalks and benches like basking lizards. Rachel makes a beeline for an empty picnic table near the low wall where Justin and Trevor are listening to something obnoxious through a portable speaker.

“It’s really nice out here.” Max says sitting on one of the benches and letting her legs stretch across the length of it. Spring is rushing up on March’s flank at last, which really only means more rain but on a day like this that’s easy to forget.

“So nice.” Rachel hums, already peeling layers of flannel away. Once she’s down to a thin grey camisole she lounges across the tabletop, feet dangling over the edge.

Max looks over the green, picking through the groups of people until she sees sunlight glinting off champagne blonde. Victoria is already looking at her Max realizes with a little rush of adrenalin. The light hits the pale strip of stomach that peeks out when Victoria lifts her arm to wave at her. Max smiles and gives her a shy wave in return before forcing herself to turn away. Her eyes have been lingering where they shouldn’t lately.

“I wish you had your guitar right now.” Rachel says, dragging her attention back.

Max smiles but shakes her head. “With the entire school listening? No way, that’s only for you and Chloe to hear.”

“I wish you knew how talented you are.” Rachel has a knack for saying exactly what she needs to hear sometimes.

“Thanks Rach, that’s… It means a lot.”

They’re quiet after that, faces turned to the sun, sharing Max’s earbuds. The mellow, folksy music is starting to gnaw on her bones. It fills her with nostalgia that she’s desperate to cling to despite the ache. A cloud passes over the sun and Rachel’s arm breaks into goosebumps where it’s touching Max’s.

“What are you thinking about?” Max asks softly.

“Chloe.” Rachel replies without hesitation. She opens her eyes and turns to look at Max, a hand shielding her face from the returning sun. “I just wish she was here I mean. It’s fucked up that she’s working when it’s this nice out.”

“Yeah, I know.” Max’s smile fades to a grimace when Rachel closes her eyes again. On the other side of the green Victoria is laughing and dragging her nails along Nathan’s shoulders. Everyone says they’re only friends but everyone says that about Chloe and Rachel too. The soft touches, the glances, are similar enough to make her wonder.

“Hey we’re going to a show tonight, do you want to come?”

“Sure.” Max says, tearing her eyes away to turn back to Rachel. “I could use a change of scenery.”

***

“Is this it?” Max asks, as if it’s not the only house on this dead-end street with dozens of grungy teens and 20-somethings milling around the front.

“Yeah.” Rachel is practically vibrating, her thigh knocking into Max’s with every bounce of her foot. “I know it looks kind of intimidating but everyone is super nice.”

“Especially to people who bring beer.” Chloe adds gesturing vaguely to the cooler in the bed of the truck. “Everybody say thank you Mr. Amber.”

“Your dad bought you beer?” Max asks, bewildered.

“Well technically he thought the money was going towards a textbook.” Rachel says with a wicked grin. “But it’s still going towards an education. You’ll be learning about the local music scene.”

They park in the abandoned lot across the street and Max can already hear the bass. The house looks derelict, the roof is mossy and the clapboard is grey and splotchy. One of the gutters is hanging and dragging shingles with it. The upstairs windows are flooded with red light and the downstairs is washed dark blue from the blacklights. They reflect off the wet street in purple swaths. Every window and door is flung open, perhaps because half of them are missing boards and glass anyways.

Rachel and Chloe walk ahead, the cooler spanning the space between them. Max falls back and pulls out her camera. Don’t hide behind the lens all night, Chloe had groaned when she saw it in Max’s bag earlier. She’s willing to admit that it serves as a security blanket sometimes but tonight she just knew she was bound to get some good shots. The photo is good despite the low light, silhouettes and colorful streaks and contrast. It’s the kind of shot that looks the way she imagines she’ll remember her youth decades from now, a blurry rush of light that appears more poignant than it ever really was.

When they reach the porch the crowd parts for them, random people fist bumping Chloe or hugging Rachel a bit too close. Max keeps what she hopes looks like a warm smile glued to her face through the endless introductions. Nobody really seems to be all that interested in her anyways, to her immense relief.

Through the door she can see a wall of people, all of them unfamiliar and covered in tattoos and piercings and denim or leather. Chloe’s hair doesn’t even stand out in this crowd; anyone with a natural hair color has it shaved or spiked or braided. Heady smoke spills out the open windows, unfurling in the porch lights.

“You guys go ahead. I’m going to wait out here for a second.” Max shouts over the voices and music into Chloe’s ear.

Inside, brass instruments are all fighting for dominance. She winces as the horn blares even louder, drowning out what she believes is a trombone.

“We’re just going to run the beer to the kitchen and come right back, okay?”

She nods and watches them go. There’s a lot going on here, it’s somehow even more chaotic than Halloween. At least there were familiar faces then.

“Here.” A boy with a buzzcut and plastic cockroaches hot glued to his vest is holding out his fist.

Max automatically bumps it with her own the way Chloe did.

“No,” he laughs and takes Max’s hand, opening her palm, before dropping two rubbery objects into it, “earplugs. You look like you could use them.”

“Oh,” Max says, grateful but thoroughly embarrassed, “thank you.”

“I’m Isaac.”

“Max.”

“You came with Chloe and Rachel?” He asks, bringing a glass pipe to his lips. Max watches him light the bowl and pull deeply before lifting his thumb. Something about the ritual still appeals to her but after last time it’s not enticing in the least.

“Yeah. Do you know them?”

Isaac laughs and blows a plume of smoke out with it. “Everyone knows them.” He offers Max his pipe, shrugging and taking another hit when she declines. “You seem responsible Max. Keep an eye on them, will you?”

“What about me seems responsible?”

“Well you’re using protection for one thing.”

“What?”

Isaac points to the earplugs and winks. Right. Max feels herself blush and finds herself hoping that the makeup Rachel applied earlier covers it.

“Hey Isaac!” Chloe says, reaching over Max’s shoulder to slap his palm. “Cooler is in the kitchen.”

“Awesome, thanks for contributing.” He smiles and there’s a glint of silver, a piercing through the thin web of skin connecting his upper lip to his gumline. Max finds herself staring at it, wondering if it hurt.

“He’s single you know.” Rachel’s breath is hot against her ear. Max jumps and turns to find Rachel leaning her torso out through the window. She grins at Max’s reaction and pulls her closer before whispering, “don’t look now but he’s totally checking you out.”

Max rolls her eyes but glances over her shoulder to find that, yeah, he is staring at her.

They make their way inside and Chloe shoves a beer in her hand.

“Just one to settle your nerves.” She shouts over the music, before taking a swig of her own.

“I thought you were driving us?” Max eyes Chloe’s bottle nervously.

“I’m just having a couple, I’ll be fine.”

A new band starts up from the corner, this time guitars and drums instead of every brass instrument known to man, and Max’s nerves settle. The music isn’t bad, especially through the earplugs. It pounds at her chest and rattles her teeth and vibrates the bottle in her hand, but it’s a good feeling. With another hour and two more beers under her belt she finds that she’s really enjoying herself.

Rachel holds her hand as they dance, Max feeling less self-conscious than usual, and Chloe flits through trailed by smoke and strange girls who disappear when they spot Rachel. It’s easier now for her to see the appeal of this, the noise and the lights and the people, it all fades to a comfortable hum around her.

As the night goes on, Chloe and Rachel dance closer, hands on hips and waist, and Max lets herself moves further back into the crowd. She catches Isaac staring at her, eyes low, smirking around the mouth of a bottle. Max can feel his eyes tracing her shape and maybe it’s the beer or the marijuana haze or a fundamental shift in her psyche, but she likes it.

It isn’t long before he’s just behind her, moving in her peripheral, and she isn’t quite sure how to respond. Slowly she dances closer to him until she’s pressing into his chest and he’s swaying in time with her. His hands run over her sides, a rough thumb rubbing circles against her hip.

Rachel and Chloe are dancing face to face, pressing so close they look like a single entity. Distantly Max thinks that it would make a nice photo, shining with sweat, hair wild. Instead she follows their lead and turns to face Isaac. The back of his neck is slick on her palm and his breath is sour with the scent of weed but it isn’t unpleasant.

It’s not like she’s never found herself in this position before. Guys like her, Warren most recently but there were some in Seattle too. Still, she finds herself hesitating. She thinks, inexplicably, of Victoria pining her against her locker, hair pink and eyes filled with rage. She thinks of Thanksgiving, drinking wine out of mugs in Victoria’s room, making fun the terrible rom-com they decided to watch. She thinks of Victoria’s nails on Nathan’s back, and the sourness it left in her stomach. Finally, Max pulls Isaac’s mouth to her own and thinks of nothing.

***

They end up in one of the red washed rooms upstairs. There’s a mattress on the floor and holes in the walls and the door is slightly off its hinges. Isaac lowers her onto the bed before following her down.

“We can’t just… This might be someone’s bed.” Max says, sitting up.

“It’s my bed.” Isaac doesn’t seem ashamed of the stained pillow or the motheaten sheets. Max thinks maybe he ought to be.

He slides a hand up her thigh and finds her mouth again. He tastes like beer and his stubble is rough on her cheek.

“Wait.” She squeaks into his mouth. He pulls away and looks at her concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t… I usually don’t do things like this. Not with people I’ve just met, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you don’t seem like the type.” Max hates the look he’s giving her, like she’s just so precious, something fragile. “It’s okay, we can go slow. What if I took you on a proper date?”

Her gut churns as an answer.

“Yeah, maybe.” She stands up, dusting off her pants where they touched the mattress. The room reels around her like she’s on a tilt-a-whirl and her stomach twists again. Rachel had told her to keep her bottle caps in her pocket so she would know how much she drank, but she’d forgotten to after the first three. “I need to find my friends. I didn’t realize it was so late and we have to get back to campus.”

“Chloe has my number,” He calls after her as she pulls the door open, “get it from her and hit me up sometime.”

She smiles and waves over her shoulder knowing that she absolutely will not be doing that.

The hallway is full of people, unfamiliar and crushing in on every side. Max makes her way back downstairs, stepping over a million Dr. Martens and converse and a distracting pair of bedazzled Keds. She pushes through the crowd and only catches two accidental elbows to the ribs which she barely feels. The small group hanging outside the front door parts easily for her. The light is flickering and casting cruel shadows on the faces that watch her take the steps down two at a time.

“Are you okay?” Someone shouts down from the porch.

She nods and gives them a thumbs up without turning around. Once she gets back to the truck it’ll be better.

As she crosses the empty lot the truck shines like a beacon, backlit with the faded orange glow of a lone streetlamp. Her legs betray her, refusing to respond as she trips over nothing. She flings her arm out to catch herself and feels gravel rip into it.

“I’m never drinking again.” She says firmly. “Not ever.”

There’s a low chuckle from the bed of the truck. Max walks around to find Chloe curled under Rachel’s jacket, her head lolling on the edge of the tailgate. There’s vomit spattered on the pavement below.

“I say that every time.” Chloe chuckles again and then stops suddenly. She pitches forward and Max turns away as she retches.

“Oh god.” Max swallows against the saliva gathering in the back of her mouth. Juicy jaw Chloe calls it. The feeling makes her skin clammy.

“Max!” Rachel shouts, jogging across the lot towards them. “Where were you? Your phone went straight to voicemail.”

“It died.” Max says lamely. Rachel’s lipstick is smeared down her chin and her hair is messy and curling with sweat. “Wasn’t Chloe supposed to drive us back?”

“Yeah, well—”

“I’m sorry.” Chloe slurs sounding not sorry at all. She tries to lower herself off the tailgate but her legs buckle and she falls hard on her butt, missing her vomit by a few inches. “I just forgot.”

“It’s fine,” Rachel sighs and helps her up, wiping the dirt and gravel off Chloe’s pants, “I’m good to drive.”

Although she isn’t sure she agrees with that statement, Max helps Chloe into the cab and passes the keys along to Rachel.

It’s a short ride back to campus but every bump and turn in the road makes Max’s stomach churn so that it feels like an eternity has passed by the time they reach the dorms.

Rachel and Max walk up the stairs with Chloe slung between them, dragging her feet and letting out little manic giggles every time they stumble. The hall is dark but there’s still muffled music and voices from a few rooms. Chloe trips over a bump in the carpet and pitches forward suddenly, laughing as she nearly takes all three of them down.

“Shh!” Rachel hisses. “You’re so loud, we’re going to get in trouble.”

"No, you so loud." Chloe says mockingly. They stare at each other for a moment before doubling over in a fit of silent laughter, punctuated with gasps and shushes.

Max sighs and detangles herself from them to open Rachel’s door. She turns on the lights and squeezes her eyes shut against a sudden wave of nausea. Sweat is gathering on her forehead and her hands are shaking and all she wants is to be in her bed.

“Thank you, Max.” Rachel says from the doorway. Chloe pushes past and throws herself across the bed, sighing contently. “Don’t worry about her, I can handle it.”

***

Max turns her head and glances at the clock next to the bed. The blue lit numbers swim and squiggle so she can't read them clearly. There's a loud click from the other side of room. She tries to sit up but her body doesn't respond.

Click.

It's followed by a flash and the sound of a shutter this time. Max still can't sit up but she manages to turn her head enough to watch, cold horror spreading in her veins.

Her camera is floating towards her, perfectly level, the strap dragging along the floor below.

Click. A blinding flash leaves her blinking and when she opens her eyes again the camera is inches away. It spits out a photograph, the image already forming on the white square. A wail bubbles in the back of her throat, unable to tear itself free. The photo is suspended in the air, somehow visible even in the low light. It's her face but not; grotesquely contorted and a sick bruised shade of green. The smudged hollows where her eyes should be are black and weeping.

The scream finally comes out in a mangled half sob. The camera still floats in front of her and she tries again, slowly fighting her way out of sleep. Her scream is loud and strong now, sharp enough to fully wake her.

She flings herself upright as the door flies open, and the flip of a switch floods the room with light. The camera is back on her desk, innocent glass and plastic.

"Rachel?" Max squints against the light. Her eyes are blurred with tears she doesn't recall crying.

"No, it's me." Victoria says cautiously, before turning back towards the hall. "What are you all looking at? Fuck off, back to bed."

Max gets her bearings while Victoria clears the hall. Her heart is still beating wildly and the pillow is damp with tears.

Victoria closes the door and fetches Max's water bottle from her desk.

"Are you okay?"

Max nods between deep gulps of water.

"Did I wake everyone up?"

Victoria shrugs. "Who cares. Last year Courtney woke up the entire dorm because she was so drunk, she thought the firm alarm was a light switch. Screams are preferable."

Max tucks her knees under her chin and hugs them close. Even awake and safe, the dread still lingers in her gut.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Victoria asks leaning in, she places an awkward hand on Max's arm. Her fingers are long and soft but there are calluses where they bend, odd for a rich girl who doesn’t like to get her hands dirty.

"I don't even remember it." The details are already fuzzy and it's not like she wants to hold onto them anyways. "I still feel all gross though."

Victoria stands up and shuffles around the room, searching. She bends over near the closet and her silk nightie rides up enough that Max catches a glimpse of her underwear, lacy and white. They don’t seem like the sort of underwear you wear to bed. With a twinge she realizes that Victoria might have had other plans for tonight.

"Aha!" Victoria strides back over looking confident. "I found someone who can help."

She's cradling Max's teddy bear like it's an infant.

"Uh..." Max says awkwardly, "thank you."

"Ugh, I’m sorry," Victoria pushes the bear into Max's arms, "Rachel is better at this stuff. Do you want me to get her?"

"No, that’s okay. You're doing a great job." Max says feeling a bit like she woke up on the strange side of the looking glass.

Victoria perks up at that at least.

"So, do you want me to stay? I can tell you a story. Don't look at me like that, I have a very soothing voice."

“You don’t have to stay, it’s my own fault for getting so drunk. That nightmare was probably just my body punishing me.”

“I take it you don’t drink very often?”

“Not really, I prefer to stay in on Friday nights, drink tea, be boring in the privacy of my own—”

“Stop doing that.” Victoria says, sharp but not hostile.

“Doing what?”

“Talking about yourself like that. You’re not boring. You just aren’t as chaotic as the human wrecking balls you hang out with. That’s a good thing.” Victoria’s cheekbones color slightly. “Also, I wouldn’t offer to stay if I didn’t want to. I don’t do charity.”

“Well…” Max chews the inside of her cheek as if she hasn’t already made up her mind, “yeah, company sounds nice."

Victoria flips the lights back off and climbs in next to Max, smacking her thigh until she releases her knees and relaxes onto her back again. Self-consciously she wonders if Victoria notices the tear stains on the pillow.

“So, what kind of story do you want?”

Max rolls onto her side and tucks her pillow up under her elbow. Victoria is propped against a pillow, the delicate slope of her nose catching a sliver of light from the streetlamps outside. The answer spills out before Max can catch herself, tomorrow she’ll blame it on the alcohol.

“Tell me about the first time you fell in love.”

Victoria snorts and Max’s cheeks flush. That was a stupid thing to say.

“Sorry… That’s really personal, I don’t know why I—”

“No,” Victoria says sitting up, “It’s not that. I just don’t think I’ve ever really been in love.”

“Oh.” Max relaxes but tries to choose her words more carefully this time. “Well it doesn’t have to be love then.”

“Hmm…” Victoria bites down on her thumbnail, a thing Max assumes she does when she’s deep in thought considering how frequently she’s seen her do it in Chem, “I’ll tell you about my first kiss. It wasn’t love, not really, but I sort of wanted it to be.”

“That’s perfect.”

“His name was Cameron. I was 13 and my parents let me and Taylor go to the fair by ourselves for the first time. All I wanted that whole summer was to have my first kiss. Taylor had already kissed someone and I was… I don’t know, I just wanted to get it over with.”

“Wow. You’re such a romantic.”

“Oh whatever Caufield, name one 13 year old boy who really deserves Nicholas Sparks worthy pining, just to awkwardly fondle you behind the fried food truck.”

“Point taken.”

“Anyways I saw him by the haunted house ride and introduced myself, made sure he wasn’t from the bay, made small talk, you know the usual.”

Max’s usual at that age would have been awkwardly staring at someone from a distance, then fleeing back to the safety of Chloe’s shadow if they approached. She nods emphatically anyways.

“I asked him to get on the ride with us and he agreed on the condition Taylor rides with his friend, who was the largest 14-year-old I have ever seen. We sit in the front of the cart and Taylor gets stuck in the back with this 6’5 man-child built like a linebacker.”

“Wait, I’ve been to the Tri-county fair, isn’t that ride meant for children? Like… small ones?”

“Yes, but the guy at the controls was like 70 and had maybe one tooth and clearly didn’t give a fuck. He couldn’t even get the safety bar to lock in the back seats but he told us that was okay because it didn’t go all that fast.”

Max remembers the haunted house ride, rickety wooden tracks leading into a dark funhouse filled with jump scares and confusing lights and sounds. She remembers her fingers digging into Chloe’s arm, her head buried in her shoulder, and Chloe with her head back laughing obnoxiously at the poorly made animatronics. It was the worst kind of ride, slow on the straight sections of the track and fast enough to give you whiplash around the turns.

“We get to the last ‘room’ and it’s pitch black and the whole ride just stops. We wait like 20 seconds for something to pop out and scare us as like the grand finale, when suddenly an empty cart slams into the back of us.”

“Oh, that’s not supposed to happen.”

“No, it isn’t.” Victoria grins a little at the memory, her posture finally starting to relax. “Taylor and the guy get out since they’re not locked in and have to walk back through the entire house to go find the operator. I’m left alone with Cameron in the dark.”

“Hot.”

Victoria kicks her gently under the covers. “Obviously he kisses me and it’s bad because we’re young and he tastes like corndogs and we’re both all sweaty, but I’m so happy because I finally caught up to Taylor. I’m planning our futures and imagining myself wearing his Letterman and all that jazz when the lights come back on and Taylor and what’s-his-face return with the operator. The old guy makes both the boys help him push our car the rest of the way out.”

“That’s pretty cute actually.”

“It was humiliating. We dated for three months and I just never really felt anything for him. I went through the motions of it but…” Victoria shrugs and looks away. “I sort of gave up on the whole love thing after that.”

“You’ve had boyfriends since then though.”

Victoria laughs humorlessly and crosses her arms over her chest, rigid and icy once more. “Yeah.”

“You felt… nothing?” Max asks apprehensively. Victoria might be open now but one wrong move and she could snap closed like a bear trap.

“Nope. I’m starting to think it’s all bullshit.”

“I hope it isn’t.” Max sighs and stares at a crack in the ceiling. “Otherwise what’s the point?”

Victoria peels back the covers and slides out of bed, tucking Teddy in her place. Max feels like part of her is being dragged after her as she walks over to the door.

“You’re such a romantic Max Caulfield.” Victoria says with a soft smile before disappearing into the hall.

***

“You look like shit.” Rachel says from the doorway of the bathroom.

It hurts to look in her direction, the morning sunlight pushing through the window behind her sends a lightning bolt of pain through Max’s head.

“Yeah that make sense.” Max leans away from the toilet. Her knees are probably bruised from the last half hour.

Rachel steps over the threshold and approaches the stall looking queasy herself. She slides a travel bottle of mouthwash out of her bag and hands it to Max. “Here, swish and spit.”

“How’s Chloe?” Max asks, before taking a mouthful of Listerine. She swishes it around until her entire mouth stings and she can’t taste bile.

“Oh, she’s fine. Left for work about an hour ago.” Rachel helps Max off the floor and over to the sink where she spits and then ducks her head under the faucet and takes deep gulps of water. “You have so much faith in our municipal tap water.” Rachel wrinkles her nose.

“I’m worried about the drinking.” Max follows Rachel out of the bathroom and to the stairs, both of their minds on the hot coffee in the caf. “She’s been going pretty hard lately.”

“It’s about as hard as she was going before, when you were still in Seattle. I’m worried too though, she’s been… distant.” Campus is shrouded in cool grey mist today that chills her ankles as they walk. Yesterday’s decent weather was apparently temporary. “I think she’s stressing about next year. Maybe feels like she’s going to lose you again, lose both of us.”

“We’ll figure something out. Maybe I’ll take a gap year.”

Rachel frowns and stops short of the doors to the caf. “I know you love her, I do too, but we can’t stay for her. She would feel so guilty if we put off our dreams for her.”

“Yeah, I know.” Max shivers and pulls the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her hands. “She’ll save up enough money to move eventually though. We can all get an apartment together.”

“I’m going to school in California and you’ll be in Washington, Max. Not to mention every time I bring up moving, she starts freaking out about leaving Joyce here with David. Believe me, I want to find a solution too. I just don’t think Chloe’s open to it yet.”

Through the windows Max watches Dana, Juliet, and Kate talking over muffins and steaming mugs and feels a pang in her chest. She’ll miss all of this when she leaves. It’s not fair, getting pulled away just when Arcadia Bay started feeling like home again. Rachel reaches out to squeeze her hand.

“Hey, it’s okay. We still have plenty of time together.” Even as Rachel says it, Max can feel the moment slipping by, this conversation already becoming memory. She nods reluctantly and follows Rachel through the doors and into the warmth. “In the meantime, let’s try to light a fire under Chloe’s ass.”


	11. To Make Your Eyes Catch Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, quarantine brain hit me hard. It turns out isolation and stress aren't good for my creative process but I have my health and a roof over my head so I really can't complain! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy! <3

Rachel unclenches her jaw and her teeth throb in response. It takes a conscious effort to relax lately, minutes to coax her muscles out of their protests. Voices and the thump of several stereos (all playing different music, all too loud) flow through the hall. The windows are propped open far enough to let in a breeze and the racket of boys playing football on the lawn. From the very beginning the noise has been her favorite part of dorm life. The Amber house is usually silent aside from the tapping of her father’s keyboard or the clink of her mother’s china as she sets the table. Great when she’s hungover, less so the rest of the time.

The sound of Chloe’s lighter flicking insistently from the bed prompts her to close the door. It took years for them to develop this language: looks, smells, sounds, all of them triggering different habits. Chloe’s lighter is basically Pavlov’s bell at this point.

“I can’t believe Max is ditching us for party patrol _._ ” Chloe says indignantly as she pulls a joint from the brim of her beanie. She sets it between her lips before mumbling around it, “she doesn’t even like parties.”

Rachel fetches her ashtray from its hiding spot in her bedside table. It’s an old Led Zeppelin one with the Icarus logo painted on the bottom. Chloe had gotten it for her from a garage sale years ago and written on the back in Sharpie “Escape, even if your wings melt”.

“The Spring Fling is a school function not a party.” Rachel says, placing the ashtray between them on the bed.

“Still,” Chloe says haughtily, tracing the edge of the ceramic square with a fingertip, “It’s weird.”

“Victoria probably just roped her into helping because I quit.” Rachel says. Chloe lights the joint taking a long pull before passing it to Rachel. “It’s going to be fine. They’ve been friendly lately.”

“How friendly are we talking?”

“ _Friendly_ Chlo. Enough to hang streamers together.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Rachel exhales smoke with a laugh. “Oh calm down, I’ve got my eye on them.” Her lipstick leaves a mauve ring on the paper. She passes it back and feels a hungry shiver run through her when Chloe’s lips cover the stain. “Speaking of friendly, Steph seemed to be in a good mood today.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she did. I think Sylvia’s been flirting with her. They’re always real chatty now.” Chloe winks at her before getting up and wandering over to the window. She inspects the duct-taped pane and smiles like an artist admiring their own work.

“Oh, that’s nice.” Rachel says, trying to sound uninterested. It comes out noticeably cheery.

“Yeah, I thought you might like that.” Chloe says, turning to smirk at her.

“Oh whatever, I’m just happy for Steph.” Rachel gets off the bed and walks over to lean on her desk. Chloe’s eyes are glazed over like she’s already high and Rachel finds herself suddenly feeling brave. “Or maybe Nathan was right and I’m being territorial.”

In the past she would have said it with a wink and an arm around Chloe’s waist. Now it sounds nervous, hopeful even, and she feels herself blush. Chloe looks away, a sly little grin playing across her lips. _Fuck._

“Well Nathan’s never right. But if he was, just for arguments sake, I don’t think I’d mind.” Chloe says walking over to the other window, tugging Rachels belt loop with a finger as she passes. It must be the smoke or the muffled pounding of the stereo next door that has the room feeling so heavy. The rush of air when Chloe pushes the window open a couple of inches further nearly gives her a headrush.

“No fucking way.” Chloe says peering out over the lawn.

“What?” Rachel asks, joining her at the window.

Max and Victoria are evidently taking a break from setting up for the dance. They’re standing under the oak tree both bent over Victoria’s phone. Max is hardly paying attention to whatever they’re watching, stealing glances at Victoria every chance she gets. Victoria says something and they both laugh.

“I can’t believe it.” Chloe says, clearly offended.

“What?”

“Look,” Chloe pulls Rachel close enough for the heat of her breath to wash over her cheek, and points, “look how she’s tucking her foot behind her ankle there. See it?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“That’s a classic Max move. She has a crush.”

Rachel has suspected as much for a while now but still doesn’t want to be the one to break it to her. Feigning ignorance feels like a safer bet. “Are you sure?”

“She’s subtle but I know her tells.”

Rachel walks back to the bed and stretches out across the duvet. “Would you be upset if they—”

“No!” Chloe says too quickly. “No, I just don’t want her to get hurt. I mean Vicky’s a snake.”

“A reformed snake.”

Chloe scoffs. “Sure.”

“I just—I think we have to let Max figure it out herself.”

“Well, look at you not interfering. I’m shocked.” Chloe finally turns to look at her before walking over and sitting at the far end of the bed. She picks up Rachel’s ankles and sets them on her thighs.

“I guess I just realized that I need to stop trying to control everything.” Rachel says. She tries not to wriggle when Chloe’s fingertips brush over her calf.

“And everyone…” Chloe adds, pinching the ticklish spot behind her knee.

“And everyone.” Rachel agrees, playfully kicking Chloe’s hand away.

Chloe’s hair is standing up at odd angles, backlit by the afternoon light like a blue halo. She has the kind of beauty Rachel covets most, the messy kind that is only enhanced by fly-away hairs and a mid-afternoon buzz. “Who are you going with anyway? Dana?”

“I was hoping you would come.” If Rachel had said those words a year ago Chloe would’ve been ecstatic. She doesn’t seem ecstatic now, ducking her head and sucking her cheek in.

“I already told you it was a bad idea.”

“You said that weeks ago, I thought maybe—"

Chloe abruptly lifts Rachel’s legs away and moves to the edge of the bed. “This is your last big Blackwell thing… I don’t want you to feel obligated to invite me. Besides it’s in four hours, I don’t even have clothes.”

“I was planning on just ditching honestly, but if you were there… look, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it.” Rachel feels her cheeks growing red. “And you can just wear one of my dress shirts if you really want to get fancy. I’m going in a crappy old dress. It’s super casual.”

“Rachel, if we go together people will start talking again.” She pauses, and looks at Rachel expectantly. “About us, you know?”

“So what?” Rachel can hear how terse she sounds and softens. “I just want you there.”

Chloe looks at her like she’s searching for something. She must not find whatever it is because after a few seconds she sighs loudly and says, “fine, whatever you want.”

***

The Spring Fling is one-part school dance, one-part picnic, and all disarray. The field behind the dorms, the one that was used for soccer matches before the school’s addition but is now used for fighting or hooking up or feeding stray cats, is filled with string lights and garlands and long tables laden with every flavor punch that Fred Meyer carries. It’s not even sunset yet and nearly everyone is drunk.

Rachel has already made the rounds and dragged her along for the ride. Chloe’s surprised how many people know her name, even the ones who don’t get drunk with her at the same shitty parties every other week. “You’re _popular._ ” Rachel whispers, like it’s a secret, but there’s a difference between popular and infamous.

They finally catch up with Max who still looks a little sweaty from setting up. Even though the DJ is playing some hipster bullshit and the ground is a too soft and there are gnats _everywhere_ , Chloe can’t bring herself to say anything snarky about any of it. Max worked hard and she deserves to enjoy it.

“Chloe, I’m so glad you came!” Max says, pulling her in for a hug. It’s good to see her like this, wild hair and a huge smile, not stressing over finals and graduation for once. She beckons them over to a picnic blanket where Dana, Kate, and Juliet are sitting.

“Your dress is beautiful Rachel.” Kate says shyly. Max nods emphatically in agreement.

“Oh, thanks! It’s one of my old ones actually, I was kind of worried it would look out of place.”

It honestly should look out of place. Her dress is more of a slip really, short and silky with a delicate lace trim, but her clunky doc martens make it look more Courtney Love than streetwalker. She has an eye for that sort of thing, always managing to look effortlessly cool, even when she makes questionable fashion choices. She even managed to pull off a beret for half a semester one year, although Chloe teased her mercilessly for that one anyway.

Chloe paces a few steps away and slips a water bottle out of her jacket. Cheap cherry flavored vodka from the back of Rachel’s closet. It tastes like expired medicine but she doesn’t even wince at the burn.

“What’s wrong, not in the mood to mingle?” Max asks, sidling up beside her. She glances at the water bottle but doesn’t say anything.

“Not with anyone here.”

“Some of them are alright.” Max says grinning like a fool in Victoria’s direction. Victoria waves at her and then spots Chloe and awkwardly ducks.

“Right…”

“Why don’t you dance with Rachel? She looks so pretty.” Max says in a wheedling tone.

“She’s busy, I’ll try later.” They both turn to look at Rachel, who’s talking to Dana but keeps turning to stare wistfully at the plywood dancefloor. Christ, it’s like she _knows._ Max glares at her until she breaks. “Fine.”

Max settles down next to Dana and whispers something in Rachel’s ear before shooing her towards Chloe. She looks bewildered but walks over without putting up much of a fight.

“Max said you had a ‘very import question’ for me?” Rachel says. She’s smiling, but her eyes are wary. There’s new tension between them. The air always feels a little heavier when they’re together, like how it does an hour before a thunderstorm. Heavy and full of electricity.

“Why do you look so nervous?” Chloe asks, satisfied that she has the upper hand for once.

There’s a flash and they both turn to look at Max who waves a freshly printed photo in the direction of the dance floor. Chloe exhales, letting the air hiss through her teeth, and takes Rachel by the hand.

“May I have this dance?” She asks, gesturing towards the dance floor with a flourish.

Rachel stands on her tip toes and leans in close to her ear, “we can wait for a faster song, if you want.”

Chloe bends to Rachel’s ear and whispers back, “what? You don’t want to slow dance with me?”

She gets wrapped up in it: giving Rachel goosebumps, making her stutter, getting her flustered enough to forget what she’s saying. It feels fucking amazing, or at least good enough for her to ignore the alarm bells in the back of her head.

The DJ is playing a song that Chloe is certain she’s heard on Max’s stereo at least once, something folksy and bittersweet that makes couples flock to the dance floor. _This is embarrassing_ she thinks distantly as they find a spot on the edge of the floor and Rachel throws her arms around her neck. She doesn’t feel all that embarrassed though, not when Rachel is pressed against her, swaying with her so gently.

They move in a slow little circle and Chloe hardly notices that anyone else is there. She slides her hand over Rachel’s waist to the small of her back. The familiar geography of her body suddenly feels new and unfamiliar. The sun dips lower over the horizon and the crickets start up in low whir. The liquor in her stomach is slowing her in a syrupy and pleasant sort of way.

Then the song ends and the world comes back into focus, colder and louder and off-key. The wind picks up flinging napkins across the field, a girl is bickering with someone over the phone, the air is thick with the smell of tropical punch and pollen and mud. Chloe suddenly feels desperately lonely, even with Rachel in her arms.

“You know, you clean up real nice.” Rachel says biting her lip around a half-smile.

It’s too much.

“I’m have to go.” She says, grimacing at how flat it sounds. “I uh… Joyce needs me home. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Rachel frowns. “Like right now?”

“Yeah,” Chloe says jingling her keys anxiously in her pocket, “sorry I just… I can’t.”

Rachel says something that she doesn’t hear because she’s already pushing through the crowd. She climbs the hill to the dorms as fast as she can, boots sliding in the mushy earth. She jogs past the dorms, up the old brick stairs, and across the parking lot, not daring to look back until the truck door slams closed behind her.

***

Rachel’s flat on her back on the blanket she’s sharing with Max and Victoria staring up at the sky. It’s shifting from deep pink to indigo and the clouds look like they’re painted on, purple smudges with ill-defined edges. The field is so wide and borderless that she feels like she could fall up into the sky at any moment. She wishes she wasn’t so damn high.

“I feel fine.” She says even though nobody asked. Her skin is buzzing like it’s made of radio static.

“What the fuck is Chloe’s deal?” Victoria asks. She reminds Rachel of a swan princess, sitting with her knees tucked up under her chin, a silvery pashmina draped around her shoulders like wings.

“I don’t know.” Rachel says. She does know, she felt the shift between them as clearly as Chloe must have, but it’s too amorphous to explain. She doesn’t have the words or the energy for it. “I feel fine though.” She repeats mechanically.

“It seemed like it was going so well.” Victoria is clearly doing her best, but she isn’t well versed when it comes to comforting people and Rachel still isn’t sure why she’s making the effort in the first place.

“I know.” A beetle lands on Rachel’s cheek and it takes her hand forever to slap it away. “But it’s honestly fine."

“You both keep saying the same three things to each other. I don’t know if you realize that.” Max says suddenly from between them. She had made the savvy decision to turn down the edibles Hayden passed around earlier. “I mean you’ve been stuck in a loop for like thirty minutes now and you’re just making yourselves miserable. Why don’t you try to think of something happy?”

“I’ll be happy when the stupid fucking band we paid too much for finally finishes setting up.” Victoria says, sounding pretty chipper all things considered. “They’ve been on break for 45 minutes now, that’s just unacceptable.”

“Don’t pretend like you have any idea how much time has passed.” Max scoffs. “You’re both on the moon right now.”

“I’ll be happy when the music starts and I can’t hear myself think anymore.” Rachel sighs.

Max’s phone rings and she curls furtively over it to check the caller-ID even though it’s obviously Chloe. She must not be doing a very good job of acting unbothered if Max is this scared of upsetting her. Max leans over and whispers something to Victoria who nods and shrugs.

“Hey I’ll be right back, okay?” Max says to Rachel before standing up.

“Yeah, s’all good.”

Once Max retreats out of view Victoria shuffles closer, moving a bit like a rag doll.

“My body is all tingly.” Victoria sighs lying down beside her.

“Mhmm.”

“You know, I would kill for someone to look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Rachel tries to sit up but her body is as responsive as melted butter so she settles for lolling her head to the side.

“Like the way the two of you were looking at each other when you were dancing.” Victoria’s eyes are glassy and her smile is more serene than Rachel’s ever seen it. She’s so much more tolerable like this.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Rachel says turning back to watch the clouds shift.

Victoria shrugs and flips over so she’s on her stomach. Somewhere downhill the band finally starts tuning their instruments. It’s her favorite thing about live music. The guitars twanging a little wrong, someone dropping a tambourine, the microphone shrieking when it’s moved too far to the left. It’s relatable.

“You should see all these ants.” Victoria sighs. “They don’t care about anything but crumbs and dirt.”

“That sounds nice.”

They sit in silence for a minute before Victoria says quietly, “Rachel?”

“Victoria.”

“I’m like, _really_ fucking high.”

Rachel reaches out and pets Victoria’s hair. She’s not usually one for being touched if Rachel remembers correctly but she allows it anyway. “Me too. We’ll be okay.”

***

Chloe ignores Max’s messages and her first three calls before giving in and calling her back.

“Don’t yell at me.”

“I’m not going to yell at you Chloe.”

Chloe burrows further under her blanket.

“Good because I—”

“I just want to know what’s wrong with you?” Chloe knows exactly the look she has on her face right now. Disappointing Max is worse than disappointing Joyce, maybe because it’s harder to do.

Chloe ducks her head guiltily even though she’s alone in her room. She picks at a loose thread on her blanket. “You said you wouldn’t yell…”

“I’m not yelling.” Max says sounding exasperated. “It just seemed like it was going so well and Rachel’s really upset right now.”

Chloe’s sure Rachel _is_ upset but what the fuck is she supposed to do about it?

“I’m upset too.”

“I know you are but it’s starting to make me worry. I mean you’ve been so… out of it lately and all the drinking—”

“Everyone was drinking! It was basically a school sanctioned frat party.”

“It’s not just the drinking, okay? It feels like you’re shutting everyone out. You think we’re abandoning you so you want to abandon us first.”

There’s a stunned silence, Chloe’s breath filling the dim blueish cave of her blanket and Max in that gussied up field probably wearing a hole in the toe of her shoe. She’s always been a nervous scuffer.

“Well you _are_ going to leave me.” Chloe says, heat crawling over her like ants.

“No Chloe! I’m leaving Arcadia because I _have to_. There’s a difference.” Her voice is getting wilted but every word is still sharp. “I’ve offered you all the solutions I can think of and I know Rachel has too. We both want to get you out of here but you won’t let us help you.”

“I’m stuck here. It’s out of my control, you know that.” Chloe says defensively. The reasons drag through her mind limply; Joyce, money, truck, all sounding deflated next to Max’s anger.

“Yeah, I know.” Max says more gently. She sniffles and Chloe feels like a monster. “I’m sorry for getting upset. I’m stressed about leaving too."

“Well stop, okay? Your parents said you can stay here this summer right?”

“Yeah, they said it was fine.” Max says, sounding less weepy. Chloe takes advantage of this.

“Hell yeah! We have all summer, there’s no reason to stress about leaving yet.” Chloe pulls the blanket off of her and sits up. The air slaps her out of the fog she’s been nesting in. “Today wasn’t even about that. It was just about Rachel, okay?”

“Okay, what about her?”

Chloe groans and considers giving her another vague excuse but it feels counterproductive at this point. “It’s hard to be around her sometimes. All the time actually. I thought we could be friends, I really tried but it’s no different. I don’t feel like chasing her anymore.”  

“Chloe,” Max says softly, like she knows exactly how thin Chloe’s worn, “if you really don’t believe that she feels the same way then stay home, that’s okay, but if you there’s even a chance that she does—”

Chloe cuts her off with a groan, “Max, I appreciate the pep-talk but I’m just going to watch a terrible B movie on Syfy and fall asleep on the couch. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Max sounds more defeated than Chloe really thinks she has a right to, “have a good night.”

Chloe drops her phone down next to her and pulls the covers back over her head. She stays in the cocoon for two or three minutes, wilting in the heat of her own breath and going over the conversation with Max in her mind. The stereo hums too low to make out (David sometimes sneaks in and turns it down when she’s away) and downstairs the TV is blaring some cooking show while Joyce follows along from the kitchen. Chloe throws the covers off her head again and walks over to the door where her boots are still sitting in a muddy heap.

“Fuck me.” She mumbles to herself as she tugs them on.

***

“I’m actually from Beaverton originally—”

Rachel stifles a yawn and Victoria elbows her and arches an eyebrow. The look is enough to make Rachel snort which she immediately covers with a polite cough. The guitarist from the band, bearded and droopy eyed and obviously drunk, has been talking to them for at least fifteen minutes now.

“Listen, she’s too nice to say it but I’m not,” Victoria says and gives him a withering once-over, “we don’t care. Please move along now.”

The man scoffs but shuffles reluctantly back towards the van where the rest of the band is loading up instruments. Everyone is milling around the student parking lot, bored but reluctant to let the night end. A few people have backed their cars into a circle to sit in the popped trunks. Logan’s mustang has a brand-new sound system that’s blaring generic pop-country that Rachel hates.

“I forgot how much fun you are.” Rachel says turning to Victoria.

“I’m only fun when I’m high.” Victoria laughs. Her hair is feathering up around her ears and the nape of her neck like a kid after a nap. She looks sweet when she lets her guard down, that must be what Max sees in her.

“You’re fun when you allow yourself to be.” Rachel corrects her. Victoria rolls her eyes but jostles her shoulder playfully.

Justin pushes by on his skate board with Trevor closing in behind him. The rumble and crack of wheels over pavement make Rachel wish she had hers with her but it’s still in the bed of Chloe’s truck. It seems significant, the amount of her things that have migrated into Chloe’s room and the truck over the last few years. She’s reluctant to admit it to herself but she gets some satisfaction from those mementos, a security in knowing that Chloe will be forced to remember her every time she opens her closet or drops her tailgate.

Taylor and Courtney wander over, moony-eyed and giggling about Logan’s car. Courtney spots Rachel and frowns with feigned compassion.

“You good Rach?”

“Yeah, I think I over did it on the party favors.” Rachel says with a debutant smile. She fixes her posture, consciously tries to exude that “doing just fine, thanks” energy that used to come so naturally.

“Where did your date go?”

Rachel isn’t sure if she likes the way Courtney asks.

“She had to run home.” Rachel says ignoring the sympathetic pat from Victoria. “Where’s Max?”

Taylor smirks and points over to the bearded guitarist who has his arm around a short brunette guiding her around the back of his van. Rachel’s stomach sinks. Max can handle herself but this guy seems pushy. Before Rachel can even stand Victoria is already up and walking towards them.

“V has been up that girl’s ass lately.” Taylor says bitterly. “Just a few months ago she was calling her a freak.”

“People grow up, you should try it sometime.” Rachel snips back, although she isn’t really sure if she should be defending Victoria just yet. It’s not necessarily Taylor’s fault, Victoria has a reputation for dropping her old toys as soon as something new comes along. Apparently that extends to Courtney and Taylor as well.

“She said worse about you.” Courtney’s smile is fixed on but there’s hysteria brewing around the edges of her voice. “So don’t start thinking you’re besties.”

“Thanks for the hot tip Court.” Rachel isn’t really in the mood to be catty but the words spill out anyways like a reflex. “Here’s one for you: When Victoria’s at school in Seattle and you’re all alone at SOU you’re going to have to think for yourself, so maybe you should spend the summer trying to grow back the other half of your brain.”

Courtney’s nostrils flare and her face goes pink. “You fucking—”

“Courtney let’s just go.” Taylor begs, pulling her back toward the cars.

“Wait and see Rachel. You think you’re hot shit but just wait till you get back to Cali.” She yanks her arm away from Taylor but follows her anyways.

“I’ll send you a post card!” Rachel calls after her cheerfully.

They pass Victoria on the way over and she brushes them off like flies, dragging Max along arm-in-arm. Rachel can just hear a snippet of what Victoria’s saying, “—told you musicians are fucking weird.”

“I’m a musician too you know.” Max says innocently. “Oh, hey Rachel.”

“Hey yourself.” Rachel gestures vaguely in the direction of the dorms. “I’m gonna run and get my jacket, need anything?”

“No tha—”

“Yes!” Victoria interjects, “Max’s guitar.”

“What?” Max huffs gaping at her. “I don’t play for people.”

“You just said you were a musician.” Victoria says triumphantly. She cocks an eyebrow, daring Max to challenge her.

“Well yeah,” Max hesitates, “I mean _technically_ , but—"

“She’s really good.” Rachel adds for good measure, pretending she doesn’t see Max glaring at her.

“You can play for me up on the green, it’s totally empty.” Victoria says with an impish smile that even Rachel has to admit, is sort of charming.

“Dammit.” Max mutters and then says to Rachel, “it’s next to my couch, please and thank you.”

“I’m so glad I brought my camera.” Victoria preens, pulling an expensive looking DSLR out of her bag.

“I’m not playing Oasis or Bob Dylan so don’t even ask.”

“Way to hold your own, Max.” Rachel says then cups her hand to her ear and whispers, “she just wants to see if you’re good with your hands.” Max blushes and swats at her as she takes off towards the dorms.

***

The parking lot is full of people when Chloe pulls in, music and the sickly-pink glow of the streetlights filling the blue dark. She comes to a stop by Trevor and Justin who skate up to her when she gets out. The bass from someone’s car stereo rattles in her chest as she walks over to meet the boys.

“Chloeee!” Justin greets her with a fist bump and shakes the hair out of his eyes. “Did you bring your board?”

“Not tonight but I’ll swing by the park sometime soon. Have you seen Max?”

He points up toward the front lawn. “She’s got a little concert going up there. I didn’t even know she played guitar.”

“Yeah tell her to bring it to the park sometime.” Trevor adds, gliding around them like a shark.

“Yeah I’ll put in a good word. And Trevor don’t you dare dent my truck with your fat head!” Chloe shouts over her shoulder, jogging off toward the steps.

Max never plays for crowds. She hardly plays for Chloe, even when she begs. She runs up the steps, almost slipping on the wet clumps of rotting dogwood petals, and sure enough the sound of an acoustic guitar is floating over the lawn.

Max is sitting on the brick ledge around the fountain with her guitar on her knee. At least a dozen people are on the ground in front of her loudly (and drunkenly) singing along. Chloe gets closer until she can make out the chorus.

“ _We gotta make a decision, we leave tonight or live and die this way._ ”

Chloe smiles at the memory of Max’s mom playing her Tracy Chapman CD for them one morning after she slept over. They hadn’t known most of the lyrics then and by the sound of it most of the people in her audience don’t either. Still, everyone looks happy.

Rachel stands up from the back of the crowd and picks her way through. The thin strap of her dress is slipping off her shoulder and her boots are unlaced, leather tongues slapping against her shins as she walks. Chloe braces herself.

“So. What have you been up to?”

“Oh, not much.” Chloe stops by the stairs to the parking lot and leans against the railing, “mostly just feeling like a dick for ditching you.”

Rachel pauses by a lamppost and stares at her. She looks like she did that first night after The Tempest, heat and anticipation just barely contained.

Rachel frowns and steps closer to Chloe. “Yeah that was shitty.”

“I know and I’m sorry.” Chloe braces herself, tightens her grip on the cold metal of the railing. “I think part of me is afraid.”

“Of what?”

It’s okay. Rachel will stop this from going any further, Chloe thinks calmly. Rachel will stop it because she has doubts and common sense.

“Letting you close.”

Rachel moves closer still and the look on her face is enough to make Chloe’s heart lurch, all fire and need and that elusive tenderness. “Are you afraid now?” Chloe is about to back away, remind her that they agreed to be just friends, say she’s changed her mind. Except she doesn’t.

“Yeah.” Chloe breathes, barely a whisper.

Rachel cants her head and gives her a look like _come on already_. Chloe thinks about boundaries and responsible choices and being stuck on tracks that only go in a circle. She also thinks of Rachel’s lips still wet from the anxious flicks of her tongue, the way her hair was shining like spun gold earlier, how green her eyes are when she cries.

Chloe pulls her in by the hips, lets her hands wander, smirks at the soft gasp when her hand brushes the fine hair at the nape of Rachel’s neck. Her lips meet Rachel’s and she expects caution or resistance, some hesitating stutter to let her know she’s crossed a line.

Instead Rachel slides her tongue between her teeth, kisses her urgently and sloppily. Rachel’s teeth sink into her bottom lip, pulling too hard, drawing blood and sucking it away. Chloe doesn’t care about the wound or their teeth clashing or the fact that they’re twenty yards away from the entire student body.

When Chloe pulls away Rachel looks red-splotched and watery.

“Oh, fuck,” Chloe strokes her cheek, ready to catch the tears if they fall, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—"

“No.” Rachel’s voice sounds trapped, muffled frustration and pain. “ _I’m_ sorry. I’m so sorry Chloe.”

“I know I said we couldn’t do this again but I’m not… mad, or anything. I didn’t mean—” Chloe runs her hand through her hair trying not to panic. “Listen, we can pretend that didn’t happen. Just go right back to normal.”

“I don’t want to go back to normal, okay? I don’t want to be friends.” Rachel says, red nosed and wobbly but still desperately beautiful. “I mean I will, if that’s what you need from me, but I don’t want to. Do you understand?”

Chloe wants to tell her what a stupid fucking question that is. All she’s ever done is cling to whatever role she could play, whatever Rachel needed; friend, accomplice, lover, therapist. Of course, she understands.

“Yeah, I do.” She says thickly.

Rachel pulls her in again, one mouth tasting like salt and the other like iron and neither minding in the least. The wind changes direction dragging dogwood petals behind it. The petals caught in Rachel’s hair could almost be ash. They could almost be sixteen and reckless and trying desperately to grow into their pain. As if complying with her memory, the wind stirs again, bringing more petals and the smell of campfire smoke from somewhere deep in the hills.

“Did you start another forest fire or—”

The rest of her words are lost to Rachel’s mouth.


End file.
